The Nervous Thought
by boonadducious
Summary: It is understood that when one loses their soul, they are as good as dead. For Spock of Vulcan, letting this happen to Leonard McCoy was not an option - no matter the cost. AU with daemons ala His Dark Materials. Spock/McCoy
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The morning mist still drifted slowly across the small section on the planet. A vast green valley was dotted with mounds of dirt which jutted unnaturally from pristine flatness. The mounds had doors and windows and were surrounded by wooden fences housing various kinds of livestock. The large mountain which provided shade from the rising sun had another small building - no bigger than a single family house - built on a solitary cliff.

The colony was called New Plymouth, and rested on a planet the human settlers called Ararat, but their larger Federation called Cerebus II. It was Sunday, and the residents of the village had left to attend church on the other side of the valley. The only sign of life other than the animals in their pens was a young girl and her daemon running through the tall grass.

"The hour is growing later," said the daemon - whose current form was a hummingbird. "If mother and father get home and find we are not in bed with stomach flu. They will be cross."

The girl was clothed in a long dress with a white apron around her waist. Her hair was bright blonde with small pink flowers weaved within. She had been crouching among the tall grass in the valley attempting to find one of the colorful pink bugs which looked like a four-winged butterfly. They only came out right after dawn, and her schooling often prevented her from finding them on other days.

"Stop worrying, Simeon," the girl chided softly. "Make yourself into something smaller."

"This is as small as I will get. The word around the village is that those bugs are poison."

"Then I'll be careful," the girl said, lifting her homemade butterfly net to demonstrate.

The pair continued to creep through the grass as they got further from the village. The daemon changed to a mouse and crawled to hide underneath his parent's sprawling hair which was becoming damp from the morning dew.

"What are you frightened of?"

"I feel something, Annalise," the muffled voice said. "We should not go any further."

"What could possibly be out here that could scare you so bad?"

Before the daemon could answer, there was a screeching sound from above them. Annalise looked to the green-tinted sky and saw a large orange streak making its way toward the mountain.

She groaned. "Its just a shuttle!"

"If it is, it looks like its crashing. We're not supposed to have new people coming for two months."

When the streak finally disappeared behind the mountain, Annalise knew she had to agree with Simeon. The craft was coming far too fast. It was going to crash. She curled herself into a ball and covered her ears preparing for the explosion, but all she felt were the vibrations of a heavy object falling nearby, as well as the sound of breaking trees.

Annalise tentatively peeked out from her hiding place and saw a large dust cloud behind a large ridge. It could not have been more than a kilometer away. The smell of burning wood and ash wafted toward her and made her eyes water. There were other burning smells she could not identify, but probably came from the ship - whatever it was.

Simeon changed to a falcon and flew to the apex of the ridge to investigate. Annalise grimaced as the distance caused her chest to hurt. She silently urged her companion to not take too long.

"The ship is covered in brush. It does not look like it has any doors or anything."

Annalise received some vague pictures in the mind she shared with her daemon, and immediately was propelled by a surge in curiosity. She ran to the side of the ridge, peeking around the side to get a look at this ship for herself.

"Do you think it's like a being that lives in outer space, and doesn't need a ship or anything?"

Simeon had turned to a robin and landed on her shoulder. "I don't know, but I bet Dr. Weinburg would."

"What if no one's seen this thing before? We could be famous, like Captain Kirk! They could name it after us and everything."

"I admit, that does sound cool, but I don't think we can do that if its something aliens have made."

"Well, we had better find out what it is, then," said Annalise, her grin spreading by the second. She ignored the brambles getting stuck in her clothing as the grass became more unkempt. The forest was known to be dangerous, but Annalise figured the large object falling from the sky would be enough to scare anything dangerous away.

She heard and felt the transporter before she saw it. Materializing in front of her was a thin short woman in flowing silk robes in bright colors. Annalise might not have lived in a fashionable colony, but knew enough about fabric to recognize textures from at least three different worlds in this woman's outfit. They did nothing to compliment the dark yellow skin and long white hair. She recognized the species vaguely from catching random holo vids in school, but the race was not common enough to deserve immediate recognition. She had at least hoped to see a daemon, although they had not known any races other than her own to have them.

"Hello, young one," the woman said with a grin which spread unnaturally across her face.

Annalise was immediately wary, but habit dictated she show some manners. "Hello, and welcome to Ararat," she recited, while Simeon bristled.

"I apologize for my abrupt entrance, but we are a bit short on fuel. Are you associated with the Federation?"

"Yes."

"So there are other humans besides you?"

/That's a stupid question. Why would you be the only human?/ Simeon silently projected.

"My family is here, as are about fifty of us," Annalise said, despite her better judgement. She normally would not be so candid, but it felt like her mind was being nudged into truthfulness. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and unwelcome. "There is also a science station here where Dr. and Mrs. Weinburg live."

"A science station? That's wonderful. They can contact starships?"

"I guess," said Annalise.

"I also must ask, do you have metal working facilities, or anyplace we can bring my ship to fix it?"

"Yeah, there's a hanger built into the mountain."

/What is going on? This doesn't feel right./ Simeon said, gauging their reactions. Panic was leaking into his voice, and his parent felt the same in her rapid heart beat. She wanted badly to run away, but it was as if her feet were glued to the ground.

"You have a lovely daemon," the alien woman said, her grin spreading even wider.

"Th-thanks," Annalise said, feeling uncomfortable as she always did when an alien being was fascinated by her companion. Her parents always told her to be patient when this happened, but it was still too close. She noticed for the first time the alien hand rested on an object at her waist, although it rested far back enough that it was not totally visible. What Annalise did see looked like the hilt of a sword, much like she had seen in illustrations of Tolkien novels.

"Where is your family?" Asked the woman.

"At Sunday worship," Annalise answered obediently. "They will not be back for a couple of hours."

/Why did you tell her that?/

/I don't know, Simeon! I don't know what to do./

"Well," the alien replied. "While we're waiting, would you like to see my ship?"

She did not wait for an answer as she came over and put her hand on Annalise's shoulder. The girl cringed. She tried to fight whatever was keeping her in place, but the more she tried to move, the more the invisible force held her in place. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she felt the tingling sensation of a transporter about to take her.

In the nanosecond before the natural beauty of her home disappeared around her, the child saw the stranger begin to unsheath her sword.

Chapter 1

There was not much he could do about it, nor was there anything he could say to break the vast concentration before him. Leonard McCoy's graceful fingers slid over the head and down the neck of Leauna, his deer daemon, and in return she placed her nose on his leg. The particular ministration was her favorite, besides the light scratch behind the ear. With his other hand, the doctor fingered a sweating glass of gin and tonic, allowing the drops to whet his fingers and the knee it rested on.

At the adjacent table, his two best friends were locked in an intense game of three dimensional chess. He knew their concentration was paramount when their bodies became stiff and moved the pieces with care, as if they would burst into flame if held incorrectly. The only breaks in the stillness were the occasional whispers of "check." Even their daemons appeared tense, standing as still as stone by their parents' feet.

"I never saw what was wrong with the old kind of chess," Leauna whispered in her soft southern drawl. "You know, with the flat board and the sensible rules."

McCoy nodded in agreement, afraid any further movement of his physical body would cause the ceiling of Kirk's quarters to collapse under the weight of mental fortitude. He wondered why Kirk even went through this much effort off duty. All McCoy wanted to do after a long day was concentrate on something mind-numbing, like a trashy novel or ship gossip. The emotional and mental weight of carrying a ship's health on his shoulders was daunting enough, but these men carried so much more.

Just as McCoy felt he would snap from the silence and stillness, Jim Kirk evenly said, "checkmate." He moved his pawn to the appropriate position on the board, taking his opponent's bishop from the game. His daemon, Aesina, scampered to the table to grab the piece and put it in the captain's hand. The small brown monkey then hopped onto the shoulder of her parent, appearing to regain her normal movement.

"Is that not twice in a row?" Aesina said in the deep voice that betrayed her size. Few had the chance to hear that voice but the two men in Kirk's presence.

"You are correct, captain," his Vulcan opponent said. Spock's face remained stolid with the exception of a raised eyebrow, but his daemon gave him away. T'Ra - whose form was a Vulcan teresh-ka - ruffled her silver feathers, which signaled to Kirk his friend was getting irritated. The most visible evidence of the Vulcan's half-human physiology was perceived by much of the crew to be just as hard to read as the man himself, but his two friends knew better.

"Does that mean we can move on to something else?" McCoy asked, finally getting enough physical movement back to take a sip of his drink. "Sitting here watching the two of you play chess is not exactly the riveting theater you think it is."

"What would you suggest? Monopoly?" Kirk asked.

"I have never understood a game based on predatory capitalism," Spock contributed.

"I used to play Risk with my dad, but we never planned on taking over the world," McCoy grumbled as he took another sip.

"In other words, Spock," Leauna added. "I realize the word 'relax' isn't in the Vulcan vocabulary, but at least try to find a close approximation."

"I wasn't being serious anyway," Kirk sighed while rubbing his eyes.

McCoy could see that as a sign to stop the light bickering, but he still felt escalated emotions within him begging for some form of release. They worsened once he saw Spock appear to still as if nothing had happened, with T'Ra even more stoic. It was so frustrating to talk to Spock sometimes. He knew he probably never would have been friends with him if it were not for his strange connection with Jim, but there was a part of McCoy that still envied the bond they shared. He wished he could see in Spock what Jim Kirk saw in him, and what was in Jim that could bring the tightly held emotions out of him. While McCoy cared for Spock enough to try and make him realize his human side, he also should know a lost cause when he saw one.

He respected both of these men, and was proud to call them friends, but there was a part of him which still tightened at the sight of Spock. The only thing he could compare it to was having a political disagreement with a close family member. He knew Spock's logic was only a facade, and yet he acted like being a human was this horrible state of emotional hell. The man had a daemon for God's sake! His human side was broadcast for the world to see, so what was the point in hiding it? Like every other race they had encountered in their travels, Vulcans kept their souls, or katras, inside them.

He looked down at Leauna, whose silent, understanding eyes met him like they always had. He smiled and petted his companion.

"Are you still experiencing headaches, Captain?" Spock asked, bringing the doctor back to the present.

"It's nothing," Aesina said once Kirk straightened.

"I think I should give you another thing of painkillers, Jim," McCoy said as he finished off his drink. "You shouldn't still be hurting."

"Captain," Spock said while leaning forward. "I cannot help but think there are residual psychological effects from having your essence transferred into another. Have you engaged in your normal ritual of discussing the event with Dr. McCoy?"

"I definitely wouldn't call it a ritual," McCoy said. "I still haven't heard him utter three words about Edith Keeler."

Kirk sighed. "Considering the fact it was two years ago, I don't see the current relevance. Besides, I'm just looking forward to relaxing rather than dwelling on the past."

"All we need to accomplish is the investigation of Cerebus II and you are free to take shore leave," Spock said.

"We'll need the shore leave after dealing with those people," Leauna sighed. "A collection of modern day pilgrims who would prefer wrestling with a Romulan ridgeback than meeting with us."

"The pilgrims did not send the summons, but rather the scientific team working with them. One of them was one of my instructors at the academy, Dr. Weinburg. I'm looking forward to seeing him again."

"What exactly is he doing there, anyway?" McCoy asked.

"He's an expert on how religion shapes societies, so the development of the colony is of interest to him."

"I believe his father helped perfect Federation laws regarding religious intolerance," Spock commented. "It was a masterful piece of diplomacy."

"Well, there isn't anything religious about this trip. All they told us was that an alien spacecraft crashed on their planet and we haven't heard anything since," Kirk said.

"I can only hope the ship was bringing the settlers Thanksgiving dinner," Aesina said while giving a small laugh.

"Thanksgiving dinner?" Spock asked with a furrow of his brow.

Aesina sighed. She walked across the table to meet the Vulcan face to face. "C'mon Spock. How have you not heard of Thanksgiving?"

"I am aware of the North American tradition of Thanksgiving, Captain. I fail to see what it has to do with the current situation."

"We'll explain later," Aesina said before scampering into Kirk's shoulders. "Right now, I think it's Bones' turn to pick a game."

"I know it's not a shock that I'm not in a chess mood tonight," McCoy said as he scratched the stubble on his chin. "I'm definitely in the mood for gin rummy though."

"I don't know, Bones," Kirk said with his trademark grin. "I would have to get some high stakes in there to be persuaded."

McCoy gave a knowing smile to Leauna, who jumped on her feet with excitement. "Winner won't pay a thing while on shore leave at Starbase 22. Loser has to pay our way."

"I'm afraid I will have to abstain from this game, gentlemen," Spock said as he rose from the table.

"C'mon Spock," McCoy said as he pulled up a chair and a recorder for the points. "It's about time I taught you how to play an old fashioned card game."

"As you well know, Doctor, Vulcans do not gamble. We find it illogical to..."

"...put your fortunes in the hands of random chance, I know," McCoy said with some indignation. "Gin Rummy isn't random chance. It's a game you need strategy to win. Besides, I sat and watched you guys play chess for almost two hours. It's only fair you join us here."

"Fairness is a human concept, and it was quite illogical for you to stay if you were obtaining no stimulus from..."

"Oh forget it. Get out of here," the doctor said with a wave of his hand. The Vulcan took the advice, and with a nod of goodbye, took his leave with T'Ra perched in his shoulder.

Aesina jumped down from Kirk's shoulders and joined Leauna to step away from the table where both humans could see them, and they could not see the cards.

"You knew he wouldn't play," the monkey said as she watched Leauna lay down. She then rested on her hind legs and cuddled up to the other daemon in a touch which symbolized their close friendship. McCoy had heard from Jim that Aesina and T'Ra had done this on occasion, but he had never seen it. Such intimate acts usually only happened when two were alone.

"We hoped he would," Leauna answered as she lay her chin down to the floor.

"That damn fool Vulcan wouldn't know a friendly gesture if it bit him in the ass," McCoy sighed as he savored the familiar feeling of their daemons touching.

"You know that's not true, Bones," Kirk said as he shuffled the plastic cards with the grace of an old-time Vegas dealer. "You remember how he was after the Vians almost killed you."

"And then a week later he flips around and turns just as stone-faced as ever, pretending our relationship had never changed in the first place. It's almost like whenever he has a genuine human feeling, he runs for it like it's gonna eat him alive."

"I believe he has what he needs. He openly considers us friends, which is a big deal for him. You just have to meet him where he is rather than where you want him to be."

McCoy sighed in acknowledgment and laid down his first two hands before discarding.

"I don't think he wants to be where he is, but how am I supposed to know?"

"He gets under your skin on purpose," Aesina said as Kirk took his turn. "He admires you, and getting you riled up is his way of showing it. It just shows you care, and that you want to connect with him," Kirk added.

"You don't have to tell me I care, but it might help to tell him that."

"I'm sure he knows," Kirk said. "If it will make you feel better, we could go in for a birthday present for him on Starbase 22."

McCoy frowned. "Since when does Spock celebrate his birthday?"

"He doesn't," Aesina said. "Which is why we definitely need to find him something he can't refuse."

"Well, you'll be the one buying it if you don't start laying down some cards," McCoy said as he laid down his third pair.

The two friends continued in their game with friendly, superficial conversation for the next hour. Their laughter was apparent and their daemons occasionally played rough when one had a particularly frustrating hand. At one point, Aesina bit Leauna's ear when Kirk called rummy for the second time in the hand.

It was at about 0100 when they were finally on the hand which was likely to decide the game. It was then a churning feeling came out of nowhere and made both Kirk and McCoy stop what they were doing. Both knew the source and looked at their daemons, who suddenly became very agitated.

McCoy knew when Leauna felt dread, there was a strange presence nearby. It was not always dangerous. There were many forces in the universe which affected daemons strangely. This was to be expected with the exposed nature of the human soul. Spock once described it as like having no enamel on your teeth.

However, this feeling felt different, and McCoy could not help but feel foreboding. The deer ran up to him and put her chin in his lap while Aesina scampered to cuddle in Kirk's arms.

"What's the matter, 'Auna?" McCoy asked while scratching behind her ear.

"I don't know, but I know I don't want to feel it again."

"Me too," Aesina said as she moved to her favorite spot on Kirk's shoulder. "It was almost like a surge of energy, but one that burns. I only felt it for a second, but...I don't know."

"We've felt these kind of things before," Kirk said, although McCoy could tell the captain was not as confident.

"Yes we have," Leauna said. "But for some reason this one is strange to me, it's..."

The chirp of the intercom interrupted them, which caused the captain to take a deep breath before answering.

"Sir," the gamma shift communications officer said. "We are currently in orbit around Cerebus II. The colonists have acknowledged our signal and will be ready for us to beam down in the morning."

Kirk looked at his daemon, and then his friend. The man on the other end sounded a little more shaky than usual. "Mr. Perry, did you just now notice something...odd. Something which affected your daemon?"

There was a beat of silence on the other end before he heard an "affirmative," from the officer.

"I know I'm new to this ship," the young man continued. "They told me I should get used to Tarn reacting to certain forces, but...everyone's was affected. I can't help but think its coming from the planet."

Kirk sighed. McCoy could tell when the captain was getting the determined look in his eye - the one which led him into dangerous situations without thought for the consequences. This small diversion was looking to be more than they initially thought, but rather than chasing the captain away, it drew him like a moth to the flame.

"Headed into danger again, I guess," Leauna sighed, earning a smile from McCoy.

"Yippee ki-yay," McCoy said in a deep drawl.

"What did you hear?" Spock asked T'Ra as he gently stroked her back. The daemon was burrowed it his lap shivering, and was blocking him from hearing what had clearly disturbed her. The fear was so great, it shocked them out of a deep meditation.

"Screaming," T'Ra said in a small voice. "Loud. Piercing. Screaming. There was anguish, Spock. The deepest anguish I have ever felt. Anguish which cannot be sated." The creature's voice broke as she recalled the feeling.

Spock continued his ministrations as he considered what she said. While Vulcans were touch telepaths, T'Ra had added empathic abilities. He could not help but take on some of the fear and trembling of his soul, hoping to ease the pain she gleaned from the mysterious encounter. He was thankful this incident did not happen in front of others. For his sake, his daemon usually kept to herself and did not expose any emotionalism. He knew if the time called for it, she would express her true nature.

"Do you still hear it, Katra?"

"No. It lasted only for a moment, but I can still hear the echoes."

"Then it is over now," Spock said softly, now massaging the taresh-ka's neck. "However, it would be illogical to not remember this incident, because it seems to be different from others. We have seen much anguish in our travels, but none has affected you so. I hope for both our sakes it never happens again."

"Are you talking about hope? I thought it was...illogical," T'Ra said, attempting to straighten herself, but still enjoying her parent's ministrations.

"You realize what I mean."

"I will not protest, Spock, but I do not think we can stop it. Whatever caused the pain is still out there...and it is hungry."


	2. Chapter 2

The landing party - Kirk, Spock, McCoy - materialized on the cliff for easy access to the science lab it supported. The residents of the building had been studying the new planet through the lives of the New Anabaptist settlers, and so far the results had been promising, which was why Kirk doubted he would have to meet with the scientists or the pilgrims so soon. Their report of the crashed ship had been unexpected, even though the survivors were reported to be friendly and well cared for by the townsfolk. Still, there was a lingering unease from the incident last night which prompted Kirk to use extra caution.

Kirk led the way as he went toward the lab and politely knocked on the door. As he surmised from the dark windows, there was no response.

"Captain," Spock said as he activated his tricorder. "There are no life signs near this facility or in the village other than the domesticated animals."

"I heard its Sunday on this planet, Spock," Kirk said. "Their main house of worship is over those hills out of our sight."

"Then why did they not tell us to wait?" McCoy said as he hugged himself and rubbed his arms. The nippy breeze at this high elevation was cutting through the entire party by now. The men held their daemons closer to bask in their warmth as they continued scouting the area.

"Besides," the doctor continued. "We're not meeting with the townspeople, but with a Jewish Dr. Weinburg and his wife."

"In our haste I neglected to check the ship's planet-wide sensors," Spock said, attempting to hide a noticeable shiver. "Would you like me to contact the ship for a reading, Captain?"

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the communicator chirped. Spock raised his eyebrows at the coincidence.

"Kirk here," the captain answered.

"Captain," Uhura said on the other end. "We just got a message from Dr. Weinburg. He said he forgot to tell you he would be in the village's hanger, where they are keeping the space craft."

Kirk looked around to the rest of the party, and then out into the valley. The oddity of the doctor's informality was becoming a strong annoyance. "Where is this hanger, Lieutenant?"

"Better yet, what would religious settlers need with a shuttle hanger?" McCoy added. "I thought the point was to forsake technology and all that."

"There had been a previous attempt at colonization a half a century ago by the Klingons," Spock provided. "But a plague unique to this planet proved too much for their physiology, so they abandoned their efforts."

"He said the hanger was within the mountain you're standing on," Uhura continued. "There should be an access point behind the lab."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of shifting metal behind them. They looked toward a flattened section of the mountain behind the lab and saw the brown rock was merely camouflage. A large metal door was rising to reveal a long tunnel lined with strips of lighting along the ceiling. The tunnel appeared to be only a hundred meters long. Sounds of machinery and soft voices echoed throughout.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Kirk out."

The captain closed his communicator harder than he normally would, the hairs on his neck standing on end.

T'Ra flew down to the ground and Aesina scampered to meet her. Just in case they were being watched, they often had their daemons talk amongst themselves when the situations warranted it.

"We should not jump to conclusions, Captain," T'Ra said. "But I must admit the incident last night should cause us to suspect all is not as it seems."

"Thank you, Sherlock," Leauna grunted as she joined he pair. "Got anything more solid to tell us?"

Spock raised his eyebrows and checked his tricorder. "There is indeed a large space inside the mountain," his daemon relayed. "There are twenty-one humanoid life forms inside, as well as fifteen daemons. There is evidence of at least one strong telepath."

"T'Ra," Aesina said. "You said you heard great anguish last night during that energy surge, correct?"

"Yes," the silver daemon replied. "Upon further reflection, many telepathic beings have given off similar readings upon death, particularly one of great pain. One of those injured in the crash could have given off a psychic cry in their last throws."

"We got no word of any deaths, though. Let alone serious injuries," Leauna said. "You'd think they would have had more urgency if there was anyone about to die."

"Gentlemen," Kirk said as he pulled out his phaser. "The only way to know the answer is to go in. Keep your phasers on stun and go slowly."

"And keep your daemons close," Aesina added, jumping onto Kirk's shoulders.

"No need to tell me twice," McCoy sighed as they held their weapons in front of them.

Kirk led the way as the group entered the tunnel. Once they all were inside, the door quickly fell closed with a loud crash.

Kirk immediately turned toward their blocked exit and aimed his weapon.

"Captain, wait!" came a voice with a Yiddish accent from behind them. The men looked to see an older man in a Starfleet science uniform trotting toward them, his canary daemon on his shoulder.

"This is not exactly the welcome we expected, Dr. Weinburg," Kirk asked, immediately recognizing the aging scientist. The man did appear thinner, and his hair was now completely white, but he looked much the same as he had when he had him as an instructor at the Academy.

"I apologize for our disorganization, Captain," Dr. Weinburg said as he came up to Kirk. "It has been quite a week with our visitors here. Also, we needed to close the door quickly so none of the Kraals get in. Those are the resident large carnivores of this planet."

Kirk sighed. "I understand things happen, Doctor, but from what you said this was an urgent call."

"You will see when you talk to the survivors of the crash," the doctor said with a small smile. It was the only real expression he had given during the exchange. Upon closer examination, his eyelids were heavy and there were bags under his eyes. Kirk knew Weinburg had a reputation for heavy drinking, which only added to his irritation.

"You have not introduced me to your colleagues," Weinburg said as he looked to McCoy and Spock. His eyes gravitated to the Vulcan's shoulder, where T'Ra was standing stiff. McCoy looked to Spock as the Vulcan got a slight pang in his face strangers would not have noticed. Once again, the Vulcan control and pride was useless to hide his human side.

"Why does this Vulcan have a daemon?" He continued, looking closely at T'Ra.

"That Vulcan has a name," McCoy said with indignation at the man's rudeness.

"Dr. Weinburg," Kirk said, trying to disguise his own anger. "This is Mr. Spock, my First Officer, and Dr. McCoy, my Chief..."

"You did not answer the question," Weinburg said, he eyes still fixated on the daemon. The canary on his shoulder did not appear to share his enthusiasm since it stood completely still, save for occasional twitch.

"My mother is a human, Doctor," Spock replied in a more controlled monotone than usual.

"Fascinating," Weinburg said as he reached a hand toward the teresh-ka. His advance was quickly stopped by a strong hand grabbing his wrist. McCoy turned the doctor toward him and met his eyes.

"Mr. Spock might not be fully human, doctor, but basic decorum must still followed."

McCoy was as level as he could manage, but the warning was sufficient based on the look in Weinburg's face. Kirk looked poised to intervene as well, but he knew better. Spock was used to these reactions by now, and appeared to dislike when they tried to protect him.

The older man recovered quickly, and shifted his gaze to Leauna. She cringed. The look for her was more awed than curious. Even so, it was too much scrutiny from a complete stranger. McCoy's grip tightened.

/Someone better stop me before I break this asshole's wrist./ McCoy thought.

T'Ra must have picked up on McCoy's anger - although the look on his face now made it obvious to empaths and non-empaths alike - because Spock rescued him.

"I believe we have come at an inopportune time," Spock said as if Weinburg had simply stepped on his toe.

A switch seemed to go off in Weinburg's head and he regained composure. "No, you did not," he said with his hands in the air, as if to surrender. "Please, forgive me. It has been difficult. My wife...she passed away recently."

Kirk softened, although McCoy still could not fathom how such a thing could lead to this behavior.

"I am truly sorry to hear that," Kirk said. "I agree with Mr. Spock's sentiment. This is clearly a bad time..."

"Please...don't leave," Weinburg pleaded.

"Dr. Weinburg," Kirk said, using his best diplomatic voice. "We have several dozen colonies in this sector who are requesting a visit from a starship."

"But not all of them have potential Federation citizens in distress. These people who crashed are Xarth, sir. Of an impoverished people."

McCoy sighed. The Xarth were a humanoid people who's sentient being rights abuses had put their application for Federation membership on hold. Although not much was known about the nature of the issues, there were people on the planet who were cast off from society and forced to live in isolation or do menial work. The only reason the Federation was still leaving the door open was because of a worsening energy crisis and the failing technology which had resulted in widespread suffering. While McCoy normally had compassion for such people, the only reason for the energy crisis was the excess to which their resources were used, so they only had themselves to blame.

"I believe you were going to show us to the hanger," the Vulcan said after McCoy released Weinburg's wrist. Without saying anything further, the trembling scientist nodded and waved the other two men to follow him.

McCoy and Kirk offered small smiles to the Vulcan, and were not surprised when they were ignored. All of them knew Starfleet did not discourage less-than-professional reactions when a daemon's boundaries were breached, but none of them expected to have to have such a reaction with a human. People had a wide range of reactions to T'Ra, but this was the first time she was almost violated.

"Who did that two-bit drunk think he was?" Leauna whispered

"Quiet," Aesina said just as softly. "This is not the same man we remember. I think we've gone from suspicion to certainty at this point."

"I'm way ahead of you. I've been certain since we essentially became prisoners here. If there is really a such thing as a Kraal, then I'm an Orion slave girl."

"I noticed a strange aura when he came close," T'Ra said, waddling between the other two. "He seemed to be inhibited in some way, and this inhibition is allowing him to be influenced by an outside party."

Aesina flinched, and Kirk nearly followed suit. "You mean a telepath might be controlling him?"

"If so they're not doing a good job," Leauna said.

"Nonetheless, such an action would be in gross violation of a number of galactic laws," T'Ra continued. "Especially since Dr. Weinburg is mentally incapacitated."

"Intoxicated?" Aesina asked.

"No, more severe. I cannot pinpoint the reason, though."

Kirk looked to his two friends and then back to the approaching end of the tunnel. McCoy could sense the determined air fading, and worry took its place. Three people might have been too few to handle this issue.

"There were over fifty people in this colony to think about," the Aesina whispered. "We will have to find a way to investigate further. We need to keep our thoughts to ourselves as long as possible. We don't know if mind reading is at play or not."

"Gentlemen?" Weinburg said from the end of the tunnel. The men nodded to each other and followed, keeping their hands close to their phasers.

At the end of the tunnel, there was a balcony ten feet off the ground overlooking an expansive floor - at least an acre in scale - with a high, transparent ceiling. About a dozen people - all having daemons - were scattered about with various pieces of mechanical equipment working on the large ship hoisted on a metal scaffold. The ship itself was twice as large as one of the Enterprise's shuttles. It was all silver and shaped like a teardrop, although the bottom was flatter than the top. It was a simple craft with no visible windows or propulsion mechanisms. McCoy looked to his friends to gauge their reactions, and they did not recognize the origin of the craft. They also did not see any signs of damage despite its apparent incapacity.

"Yes, it is a beauty," Weinburg said without enthusiasm. "She crashed right into the side of this mountain. She had no power, you see, but thankfully the ship is strong enough to withstand re-entry, even in less than planned circumstances. We had the means to give them most of the power they needed, but there is still more to be had if they want to make it back to their planet. That is why you are here."

"It's not that simple, Doctor," Kirk said. "If we're going to provide help for these people, we need to be sure they will not use it for ill purposes."

"I can assure you this is not the case, Captain."

"Nevertheless, I would like to meet these visitors."

The older man did not appear phased. He nodded and said "very well" before leading the group down the metal stairs toward the main floor.

As they were walking, Kirk looked to Spock for information. The Vulcan studied his tricorder for readings on the sight, but he appeared to be having trouble with the device.

"What is it, Spock?" Kirk asked his First Officer.

"The readings are scrambled, Captain. It will be impossible to get an accurate reading on the craft."

"I apologize for that, Mr. Spock," Weinburg said, although his tone showed no contrition. "The ship gives out some...odd signals."

"And this does not cause any sort of suspicion?" Kirk asked.

"Of course not. They say they are not here to harm us. They have been scouting for alternative energy sources in neighboring star systems when they ended up here. So far, they have given us no reason to believe otherwise."

When they reached the floor, the three men scanned the room.

"I guess we know where the colonists are," Leauna whispered.

All of the workers in the hanger had clothing resembling American Puritans. A few of them were pushing carts of equipment and others were wiping a clear gel on the exterior of the ship. The rest were simply wandering around the complex, not appearing to have any purpose whatsoever.

McCoy had been uneasy about this entire mission, but the vibes from this room brought it to a disturbing - and familiar - level. Leauna huddled close to his leg, and he gently put his fingers on her head. He tried not to show his discomfort. There was something about these people which tickled the back of his memory, but he could not seem to recall what it was. Their daemons all looked pale and tired, almost as if tagging along to their human was a burden. There were some human societies which were less kind to daemons, but the New Anabaptists saw them as a sacred blessing from God to be treasured. True, there were several elements of the society McCoy found irritating, but there was a part of him which was touched by their joy and love of life. These did not look like the same people.

"Lady Amara," Weinburg said, pulling McCoy from his thoughts. The three looked to see a slight woman in silky, flowing robes coming toward them. She had no daemon, and her skin had a yellow tint. Her white hair flowed down to her waist, and her gait made her appear like she was gliding across the floor.

"Ah, are these the good people of the Enterprise?" Amara asked in a slightly accented Standard. "Thank you for coming here to give us what we need. It is very kind of you."

"Don't thank us yet, ma'am," Kirk said, obviously wary. "Dr. Weinburg still has not told us what kind of energy you need to run your ship. There is no guarantee we can provide it."

"I understand, Captain," Amara said, coming closer to Kirk. She seemed to be using her feminine wiles to get to him, which made McCoy roll his eyes. "I know you will give us what we need. I'm sure you are curious about our ship. You are the first Starfleet personnel to see it besides Dr. Weinburg."

"Simply receiving information about it from your computers will be sufficient," Spock said.

Amara smiled, appearing amused at the request. "Very well, I will fetch that straight away. Annalise!"

One of the wandering people turned and came to her aid. It was a little girl - no more than eleven years old - with pink flowers weaved into her blonde hair.

McCoy did not listen to her conversation, but kept his attention on this beautiful young pilgrim child. She looked like she should have been running outside and playing while her immature daemon changed forms when the need arose. She should not have been wandering this place like a ghost, holding a quiet chipmunk daemon in her arms. Now the tingling of memory became a loud buzz. McCoy knew there was something about this girl which reminded him of his past. Her eyes were downcast, and looked...empty. Uncaring. Dead.

Suddenly, like a wave, the memory finally made its way to his consciousness.

He had just gotten into medical school and had gone back to Georgia for the summer. His father was going to deliver supplies to one of the church communities centered deep in the mountains. McCoy knew them well. Many small Appalachian villages refused to enter into the future, and become more impoverished than they had been in the previous centuries. The young Leonard had always wondered why his father continued to help these people when they clearly did not trust outsiders. He was surprised when David McCoy asked him to come along on one such trip. He almost refused, but he was eager to spend some more time with his father before he finally married Jocelyn, so he changed his mind.

Although Baptist ministers had reputations as being conservative fuddy-duddies in a time long past, now they were considered among the most progressive advocates for change, particularly in Appalachia. Many church men in the more modern cities tried to help the people survive without forcing them into the modern world. David McCoy knew much of what Christ taught about love and justice was now becoming a reality on Earth, and he wanted to make sure even the most resistant humans felt it, no matter how isolated. Leonard still did not understand his father's reasoning, but his sincerity was admirable.

Father and son had taken an aircar full of food, building materials, and medicine into one of these remote villages at the border of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. One of McCoy's most potent memories of the ride was seeing Anya - his father's raccoon daemon - quivering. This was an unfamiliar sight to young Leonard. He had always seen his father as a pillar of strength in all situations.

When they arrived, he saw the church was falling apart. It had a blue tarp over the roof and appeared to be buckling at the base. McCoy had reasoned it must have been built right after the World War III. The clearing looked to be deserted until an older couple came from the failing building to greet them. They had their young daughter with them, and McCoy's eyes were drawn to her immediately. She could not have been more than fifteen. She was holding her limp squirrel daemon on her arms - which should have meant the girl had a lively personality. However, she looked dead inside. Leauna appeared frightened and actually hid behind his legs. McCoy knew decorum enough to not stare, but his morbid fascination could not be quelled.

His father had told him of many Appalachian villages and their odd desire to prove something to a changing world. One of the ways was to show women their place was to cut off the "source of the sin." In other words, they severed them from their daemon before they settled into a permanent form. McCoy had heard of these practices performed in ancient Africa and some Arab tribes, but had never seen a severed person with his own eyes.

The girl might as well have been carrying her still beating heart in her hand with the empty cavity in her chest exposed. Seeing it for himself filled him with revulsion. This girl had her humanity ripped away from her. All of her hopes a dreams and freedom were gone. She did not have a companion and spiritual connection to the outside world. She had a pet. She now only lived by instinct. No fire existed in her. No light.

Existential dread had encompassed the young man like he had never experienced before. It took all the control he had to wait until after their mission was over to vomit behind the car. He hugged Leauna close to him and allowed himself a single sob. He could not bring himself to cry in front of his father, although all he wanted to do was weep on his shoulder. He never wanted to see such a horrible sight again.

When he climbed back into the car, there was silence for at least a minute. David then put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Do you think there is anything we can do for her?" He asked the younger man.

McCoy was shocked. He wanted to give his father some hope in this awful situation, but he could not make himself lie. The relationship between humans and their daemons still contained many unknowns. There were moral issues concerning the study of them, and when humans died, there was nothing left of the daemon to examine. Severing usually occurred with Olomite, which was the only metal known to cut the invisible bond and was found on every continent. However, there was no explanation as to why that metal and no others could make such a cut.

McCoy had shook his head, unable to get the image of the severed child out of his mind. And now, twenty years later, another stood before him, the dead eyes bringing the same feeling of dread and revulsion to his older body.

"Jim! Spock!" McCoy said in a loud whisper. Before he could get a word out to his friends, he felt a prick in his arm. Immediately, cold pain sped through his bloodstream, and his body went stiff. From his position, he saw both of his friends in the same predicament. A man carrying a large pistol pulled the darts out of their collapsing forms, and removed their communicators and phasers.

"Nice deductions Dr. McCoy," Amara said with a dark smile. "You have saved me quite a bit of time. I am quite sure this nerve agent is harmless, but then again it is Klingon and several decades old."

Although his body was frozen, Leauna was not. She and Aesina charged at Amara, but more of the severed people ran to the scene and grabbed them. T'Ra clearly saw the futility of the situation and stayed by Spock, but even she was taken as the helpless Vulcan watched.

If McCoy could have physically reacted, he would scream over the violation. It was as if grimy, spiked fingers were inside his flesh, exploring and violating sacred territory. The doctor knew if he were ever raped, this is what it would feel like. They had trained them in Starfleet academy to prepare for such an invasion in hostile situations, but this was the first time it had actually happened and all the mental tricks in the world could not make the mental agony any better.

"Take them in the back," Amara said, eyeing the three daemons hungrily.


	3. Chapter 3

Lady Amara and Dr. Weinburg beamed directly to the bridge of her silver ship immediately after the three humans were dragged to the Klingon-built dungeons in the bowels of the mountain. The Klingons may have been oversized buffoons, Amara thought to herself, but they knew how to build military hangers.

The five other men in her party stood at the bridge of the vessel performing various repairs, but stopped immediately to stand as straight as their bodies would allow at their ruler's entrance.

"How are the repairs coming?" She asked, not making eye contact with any of the crew.

"We are almost complete, m'lady," said the man standing at the helm. "All we need is the power of one more human, and we will be ready to continue."

"Speaking of which, m'lady," Dr. Weinburg said, pulling out his PADD. "According to my estimates it will be another two hours before the crew of the Enterprise becomes suspicious of lack of contact."

Amara smiled. "That should be sufficient."

"You must be eager to return to Xarth, m'lady." the helmsman said. "The knowledge we have received about this new energy source could redeem us and allow us to stop being fugitives. The energy crisis has only gotten worse since we left, so think of what heroes we will be."

"You forget that our people are trying to join the Federation," Amara said while scowling. "They will want to suck up to the humans at all costs. No mind that we have found ways to help them survive, or that the energy of only five or ten will power our largest city for a year."

Dr. Weinburg frowned. "You must remember the moral implications of this, Amara. You still have not worked out how to return the human beings to full functioning."

"You are functioning fine," Amara said. "It will only be a matter of time before you will no longer need my influence."

"So you say, but there has been no demonstration of this taking place as of yet. That daemon out there - the one you want..."

"She is mine," Amara corrected with venom in her voice. "You continue to forget. She was meant to be with me."

"And yet she is with the doctor."

"Yet another cosmic accident I must correct," Amara said with frustration. Of all the minions she allowed to challenge her, Dr. Weinburg was the most irritating. Then again, she said that about the last four she had allowed to be her confidante, before she either killed them or relegated them to complete obedience. They seemed to be getting progressively more challenging. A glimmer of worry about her power slipping faded as fast as it had came. She could not afford to entertain such thoughts.

Amara was quiet for a moment, pressing her lips into a thin line. She slowly walked over to the monitors on the science panel, where both the humans and their daemons were being watched by hidden cameras. She placed her hand over the screen showing the daemons, dwelling on the brown creature.

"There are many people in this universe who are lonely, Dr. Weinburg. You humans have never known true loneliness. You have daemons, and yet you do not need them. You have each other. You would have had your wife, had she survived our procedure. Humans on earth are never lonely. There are others who need daemons as much, if not more, than these primitive humans. It is time we make the harbingers of the Federation realize how selfish they have been."

"By mutilating them like you did with me and...Elizabeth."

Amara scowled. "No. By putting you in your place and letting others share in the wealth for a change."

"Severed?" Kirk said in a shaky whisper to McCoy. "How is that possible?"

"It is entirely possible, Captain," Spock said. "As I recall, there were many races on your Earth who had developed ways to separate a human from their external katra. It is logical other races would develop more sophisticated methods."

"And I know what I saw," McCoy said with a slight tremble. "That image...the look in the eye...you don't easily forget it."

The three men were now in a single cell which appeared to have been a natural pocket in the mountain. The floor was uneven, so finding a place to gather was difficult. Their daemons were not with them, but were being caged close by in an area unknown. Again, this was a possibility which Starfleet Academy had prepared them for, but it still did not make the ache in their hearts any easier. Even Spock looked like he was fighting for control, an expression McCoy looked on with interest.

"Why?" Kirk asked, leaning against the wall. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Energy," Spock said. "That is, assuming the information Dr. Weinburg gave us is correct. The human-daemon bond has been found by many to release vast amounts of energy when broken. One human bond has enough to fire over twenty photon torpedoes from the Enterprise, and could power a large Starbase for 1.2 months. Humans see the use of this energy as a high moral crime, but it is only logical that alien species with no such qualms would make use of the power. It is also logical that they would call on a starship for more specimens."

"It's amazing how you can talk about barbarism so coolly," McCoy said with a sneer.

"It is not barbarism to them, Doctor," Spock continued. "Non-human races are less inclined to understand the importance of..."

"I don't give a damn about cultural competence bullshit!" McCoy shouted, rising to his feet. "Cutting daemons away kills half the people who go through the procedure. Any intelligent race worth a damn must have known this was deadly. They can't claim ignorance. They don't care. There were kids in that colony, Spock! Doesn't that make you feel anything?"

McCoy grabbed the Vulcan's shoulders and growled, "Don't try to tell me you wouldn't feel anything if they took T'Ra from you."

Spock was not looking the doctor in the eye, but was focusing his gaze in the middle of his shirt. This only made McCoy more enraged.

"Or maybe you wouldn't care at all. Maybe you would be happy about losing that dreaded human soul of yours."

"Bones! Stop!" Kirk shouted, pulling the doctor back by the shoulder. "You know that's not true. We have to focus, and sniping at one another is not going to get us out of here, and it's not going to help those people."

"Those people are beyond help, Jim," McCoy said with a catch in his voice. "They might as well be the walking dead."

Spock, having quickly recovered from McCoy's rage, said, "It appears the same thing will happen to us if we do not attempt to escape, although the chances of such a thing happening are less than five point two-seven percent without aid from the Enterprise. They will likely notice our absence of contact in approximately eighty point two minutes, which is enough time for Lady Amara to destroy us."

"What if they find a way to get to the ship?" Kirk asked the Vulcan. "Do you think anyone else is in danger?"

"I do not believe so. The average amount of energy needed to carry a craft to interstellar travel should have been mostly attained by now. They only needed a few more specimens. However, I would need to gather more data to be sure of this."

"So a good assumption is that everyone on the Enterprise is in just as much danger as us," Kirk said as he started to pace the room. "We have to get to our communicators and weapons."

"Geeze, a tape worm could have told you that," McCoy grunted. A harsh look from Kirk caused him to soften. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm just...I know I should be used to this but...it hurts."

Kirk nodded and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Kirk knew what his friend was going through. He felt the pain in his heart, as well as his mind. His companion, forever at this side, was no longer there. They had been separated before, but it never got easier. He could not imagine if he had been there without his friends. Such pervading loneliness would be difficult to bear.

McCoy covered Kirk's hand with his own and gave him a half smile. He then looked toward Spock, who was still standing with his head starting at a fixed point in the opposite wall. The doctor was ashamed in his own callousness. Spock was clearly having a difficult time with this as well. His body was a picture of tension, with his back shaking under the forced posture. His hands were gripping his knees so hard they might have drawn blood without the clothing.

The doctor walked to the Vulcan and sat down beside him, making no effort to invade his personal boundaries again. Kirk did the same on his opposite side.

"I'm sorry, Spock," McCoy said, hanging his head. "That was a stupid thing for me to say to you."

"I am unaffected by your emotional outbursts, Doctor," Spock said evenly. "However, if the energy you put into your antics could be channeled into a workable escape plan, then we would have returned to the Enterprise by now."

McCoy wanted to react, but something in Spock's eyes stopped him. He was looking at him with some kind of affection, and appeared grateful for the apology.

"We're going to get out of here," Kirk said. "This is no different than every other scrape we've gotten ourselves into. It just feels worse because our daemons are involved."

McCoy sighed. "Jim, you need to get rid of the idea you're invincible. There were only six aliens on that ship, and they managed to overtake a colony of fifty. "

"Not to mention their leader's considerable telepathic abilities," Spock added.

"Our only hope is to contact the Enterprise, and pray," the doctor continued.

Outside the cave cell was a smaller cage made of a material which looked like chicken wire. Inside were the three daemons, separated from their humans, and attempting to take advantage of their weaker accommodations.

"I know you are an emotional being, Leauna," T'Ra said as she paced the perimeter of the cage. "But I still do not see why you always get hostile in times like this."

"He said we were sorry," Leauna sighed. "At least we express our feelings instead of letting them eat us from the inside out."

"Emotions have no corrosive properties, Leauna."

The deer daemon sighed. "Why do I even bother anymore? I know you get sick of spewing that crap, T'Ra."

T'Ra paused. "I will admit, I am more apt to show emotions than my parent body, but you know perfectly well my belief in logic is genuine, Leauna. I also believe logic is the best way to extricate ourselves from this situation."

"Quiet," Aesina said while hanging from the top of the cage. "In this case I have to agree with T'Ra. We're the only ones who will be able to initiate an escape." Her small fingers were attempting to pry at the wires, but there was no give. "There has to be some way to compromise this thing."

"We know it opens from the top," T'Ra said as she climbed the walls with her talons. "Also try to make as little noise as you can. The guard outside will be back any minute."

"I sure hope their confidence in their cages is misplaced," Leauna said. "But based on the hard time you're having, I don't think that's the case."

"We'll find a way, 'Auna," Aesina said. "I never knew you to be a pessimist."

T'Ra's wings twitched as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She nipped at Aesina's tail. "I hear someone coming and it does not feel like a normal guard."

The monkey hopped down and face her friend. "Does it feel human?"

"I sense a few humans, but a strong alien presence as well. I have not been around them long enough to tell this new race's specific signature, but..."

The words died on her beak as the metal door opened and revealed Amara, wearing a smug smile on her face as she made her way to the small cage. The three daemons attempted to play dumb and not respond to her, although they suspected she knew more than she let on.

"Hello, friends," she said as she touched two fingers to the cage.

Two large male settlers followed the woman and flanked her on either side, not appearing to acknowledge the cage's existence.

"Such strange creatures you are," she said as her eyes scanned the three daemons. "I believe humans call you a monkey, am I correct?"

"Yes, but I must remind you that keeping us here will not help Xarth's chances of joining the Federation."

Amara shook her head. "Ever the diplomat. Starship captains and their daemons are all the same, egos and all. You assume everything has to do with your precious Federation and everybody in the known galaxy wants to be a part of it. If any of the multiple races out there would think outside the box, they would realize you humans have the most vast energy reserve in the universe, but your precious 'morals' keep needy races from touching it."

Aesina launched herself against the cage along with Leauna, the images of the severed settlers forefront in their minds. The act was futile - hence why T'Ra did not participate - but necessary.

"You appear to be in the form of a close ancestor of humans," Amara said as if her prisoners were not glaring daggers at her. "Quite an ugly creature, though I can see why you are with the captain. Feisty. Smart. Annoying. Granted, he did make the decision to only have three people come on this mission. It will certainly make our jobs easier."

The yellow eyes turned to T'Ra. "You are a Vulcan bird of prey. I am surprised you have such copious feathers, but I assume the reflective silver is adaptive for the desert environment. I know the Vulcan said he was half human, but it still amazes me such a logical, unemotional creature can have such a graceful being by his side."

Her attention shifted to Leauna, and her gaze became softer and and more intimate. Leauna shifted under the weight of the alien's glare, feeling like a hooker eyed by a lonely tourist.

"Such a beautiful creature. A Terran herd animal, I believe. Dr. Weinburg called you a deer, but this name does so little to describe your beauty. So graceful. I can tell you are a loyal friend to Leonard McCoy." Amara leaned in closer ad lowered her voice to a whisper. "But we both know he does not deserve you."

Once again, Leauna feebly launched toward the walls of the cage, but only ricocheted backward.

Amara smiled again, with an expression almost resembling...pity. Leauna felt her fur stand up on end. Not only was this woman cruel, barbaric, dismissive of the rights of sentient beings, but she seemed to think she knew better about the human-daemon relationship than humans did.

Before this woman walked away, there was a glimmer of something else. Loneliness? She was not sure. There was something which would have merited compassion were it not for the plans she clearly had for them.

/Don't waste our energy/ she heard Len say as her observations reached him.

"We know what you did to those people," Leauna said in a low, dangerous voice. "You won't get away with destroying the lives of a peaceful colony."

Amara stopped her advance toward the nearby cell where their humans lay, and turned to look at Leauna.

"I did not destroy anything. I am setting things right," she practically spat before turning back toward her course.

Aesina immediately ran to Leauna's side. "What was that all about?"

"Amara is lonely, and wants a daemon for herself," T'Ra said with a shaky voice. "Specifically, she wants Leauna."

"How do you know that?"

"I felt a great longing in her, and a desire for what humans had in their daemons. She appears to have a limited focus..." T'Ra trailed off in her speech, then shook her head.

"We will stop her, it must not happen."

Leauna's ears perked up as she observed the shaking in the taresh-ka.

"I know now we all felt the sensation of a human's daemon being cut away, but I felt it far greater. There was...agony..."

"Stop," Leauna said softly. She reached out her nose and touched the other daemon's stomach. She did not know any other way to react to this unexpected display.

McCoy sat heavily on the ground next to Spock, who was now looking at him with wide eyes. He knew what Leauna saw. He knew what the look meant. Amara wanted Leauna, and the energy within his bond was an afterthought. For the third time in as many months, he felt the black cloud of death hanging over his head, ready to consume him.

Still, there was a bright spot which, somehow, brought him peace. The reaction of T'Ra, and the small touch from Leauna, allowed warmth to pass between him and Spock for a brief moment. He did not know why the touch meant so much, but it brought comfort.

"I don't plan on living long enough to let Amara have her. She can have her damn energy, but she's not getting my soul."

"No!"

Both Kirk and McCoy were stunned at Spock's sudden outburst. He had risen to his feet and looked down at the doctor. Almost immediately, a green flush came to the Vulcans cheeks.

"I will not let you resign yourself to such a fate, Doctor."

"Nor will I," Kirk said. "None of us are going to lose our daemons."

"Unfortunately, you have no choice in the matter."

The three men rose to their feet as the lithe form of their enemy darkened the open door. Kirk immediately ran for her, but was thrown backward by a flick of her wrist. The captain hit to wall and fell to the floor, still as stone. Spock tried to same tactic, but he was finished in a similar manner. She looked with hopeful eyes at McCoy, who now stood alone. The darkness in his sky blue eyes was palpable. Before he could make his own vain attempt, two large settlers grabbed him by the arms.

"Let me go!" McCoy shouted as he writhed in their iron grip. "You people don't want to do this. Fight her, dammit!"

"I would suggest not struggling, Doctor. It will only make things worse for your friends."

To demonstrate, she strode to Kirk and lifted him up by his neck as if he were feather-light. She held him against the wall and drew a knife.

"Stop!" McCoy said. He had been struggling for only a few minutes, but was already getting tired. He knew this was not a winning fight. "I'll go with you willingly if you let them go back to the ship," McCoy said.

Amara smiled as she let the captain drop to the floor. "You all will be free to go once we are gone, but not before. I would also suggest encouraging them not to go after us. You have seen my power. I would hate to have to show you it's full connotations toward your Federation."

"I don't plan on living without Leauna."

The alien's yellow head tilted. She walked up to McCoy and examined him. She slid a single finger down his cheek. He pulled away quickly, disgusted by her touch.

"You know, I thought you and your daemon were dissimilar, but now I know better. What a loving spirit you have."

McCoy wanted so badly to break free from his captors and shows what his 'loving spirit' could do, and the surging adrenalin might have allowed him to do so under better circumstances. Once again, though, he felt paralyzed.

"She won't make you human," McCoy said.

"Fortunately that is not my goal," she said as she turned to leave the cell, with the captive McCoy following. As they walked down the hall, he could feel the intrusion of someone touching Leauna, which was visually confirmed when he saw another former settler taking the deer out of the cage. The other two daemons were lying still, like their humans. McCoy let out a sigh of relief the daemons were still there, which meant his friends were still alive.

McCoy looked to his own daemon and tried to absorb as much as he could out of the look they exchanged. According to the teachings of his father, he and Leauna would remain united even after death in a new home beyond the physical world. There was always a part of him who saw this as too good to be true. What if the daemon simply...ceases to exist? What if his entire consciousness did the same?

McCoy thought of his daughter - his beloved Joanna. The last time he saw her was on a vid call two weeks ago, and the tone had not been friendly. Apparently Jocelyn had been trying to pull his baby into her pit of histrionic drama, and he felt helpless to stop it.

/Please know I love you, Jo/, McCoy thought uselessly.

/And what of Jim? Closer than any family I ever had. Bravest man I have ever known. He will be Starfleet's greatest asset if he will learn to stop being so damn foolhardy. I hope to God he knows how much I love him, and value his friendship./

/And Spock,/ Mccoy mentally paused as he thought of the friend he had tried so hard to break out of his shell and reciprocate his feelings of friendship. He had seen glimmers of it with his near-death experiences, but what had transpired minutes ago brought their relationship to a new level. Even Spock knew this was one of the worst ways to die. /At least I got to see Spock show he cared,/ he thought, feeling somewhat proud of himself. /I hope that pointed-eared hobgoblin finds some semblance of happiness. He deserves it more than any man I know./

He looked again toward Leauna, sitting still in the stranger's arms. The image made him want to vomit, but he held it back. If he was going to die for this pathetic cause, he might as well do it with dignity.

As the stale, cold air of the hanger hit his face, and the long silver craft hovered over him, McCoy took a deep breath and prayed for the first time in years.


	4. Chapter 4

Spock awoke slowly, trying to recover from an unconscious image of Leonard McCoy among the walking dead - his eyes looking forward without feeling or thought. Vulcans did not dream, so this image must have been the last in his mind's eye before he lost consciousness.

Control, Spock said internally, chiding himself for the lapse. He could not give in to the inevitable. There was no reason to panic now. He and his shipmates had been in danger before. There were always possibilities, and ways to work through dangerous situations.

Spock only allowed himself one illogical thought: he could not let McCoy lose Leauna.

The wing flaps of his daemon motivated him to push himself into a sitting position. He noticed the door to their cell was wide open, allowing T'Ra to fly in and come to him with Aesina carried limp in her talons. He did not allow himself the emotional reunion his human half desired, although having her with him again gave him a sensation akin to relief. He extended two fingers and touched them to her head.

"Jim," she said, looking to the other man in the cell. Spock allowed his heart to sink as he realized his friend had escaped his attention. He crawled over to the captain to feel his pulse and check breathing. He then gauged his brain activity through telepathic touch.

"He will not be unconscious much longer. We cannot wait for him to wake on his own," Spock said, rising to his knees. He hoisted the captain into a sitting position against the wall and began to shake him. T'Ra did the same with Aesina.

After twenty-two point five seconds, Jim moaned and furrowed his brow.

"Captain, it is Spock. You must wake up."

"Spock," Kirk gasped as he opened his eyes and rubbed his head. Once he oriented himself to his surroundings, his eyes went wide and he grabbed the Vulcan's arms.

"Bones. Where's Bones?"

Thanks to his daemon, Spock could feel an initial strong sure of fear surge into him from Jim. This only made it harder to mask his own feelings.

"They took him, Jim. I am unsure of how long it has been, but I must assume we have little time to waste."

Aesina jumped onto Kirk's shoulder as the captain made his way to the open door. Spock followed close behind. Although quick, their pace was not enough to take his mind off what could have been happening to McCoy at this very moment. Twice in the past year he had believed McCoy was going to die. Both times he had come close to losing his emotional control. This third time was too much. He had slipped once, and was coming close to slipping again. The Vulcan attempted to recite equations related to the theory of warp travel to keep his mind off distractions.

/Do you not think if there were ever a time to show you feelings, it would be now?/ came the familiar voice of T'Ra.

/I would prefer an explanation of why my emotions are becoming so volatile. That way I can easily control them./

/Well, if it will ease your mind, I will give you one explanation. You know what it is to come close to losing me./

His companion was right. He knew the fear - which should not have existed if he were truly Vulcan - of his lifetime consort being taken. Although part of him knew this did not explain the previous two instances of fearful emotions, Spock contented himself with his realization. He strongly pushed the accompanying memories back into his mind. His controls were struggling enough. Jim did not need a Vulcan whose mind was caught in the distant past.

"Lady Amara clearly did not anticipate us waking so soon," Spock said as he and the captain left the dungeon chamber. "They left the cage door open as well, so they must have intended to let us go. Fortunately, Lady Amara's people are illogical in more ways than their assumptions about humans."

"Let's hope their illogic extends beyond medical," Kirk said.

The pair continued to run down the hall at a moderate pace, not anticipating a long journey.

"Stop," T'Ra said.

Spock paused and mentally gathered the information his daemon sensed. "We ran by a laser two point three meters ago."

"A laser? Like a sensor?"

Spock did not get a chance to respond before they heard a distinct growl from behind. Coming upon them slowly in a predatory stance were two four-legged mammals who had sharp quills protruding out of golden fur. Every jagged tooth was visible, and none appeared smaller than human thumbs. The same was true for their exposed claws.

"I'm guessing these are Kraals," Kirk said with grim humor.

Spock nodded as he assumed the protective stance. "I would assume so. I also believe our captors do not wish us to leave after all."

When the tingle of the transporter beam faded, McCoy found himself in what looked like the bridge of the silver ship. It was much smaller than the Enterprise bridge, but looked to have similar equipment. The other five alien crew members - whose skin and hair were similar to their leader's - were making arrangements for imminent take-off. Based on their technology, Xarth were already benefitting from relations with the Federation.

"What's going to happen to the settlers?" McCoy asked, using the only weapon he had left: his words.

"They will live their lives," Amara said. "Someday humans will learn they can live without daemons, just like they figured out they can live without religion. We are simply helping the process along."

"Humans never gave up religion," the doctor protested. "Just the part humans used to cause fear and division. My dad was a preacher. Most humans are still religious in some way."

"Are you?"

McCoy shrugged. "Not really. It doesn't mean I don't believe in anything, though."

Amara grimaced. "Most races do believe in something, particularly the weaker ones."

"That's pretty simplistic. What a race believes in doesn't reflect on a race's importance or strength. Many atheist races are some of the most moral people I have seen, while many theistic races are among the most progressive and intelligent. All understand how precious all life is. I'm guessing you don't share that conviction."

"You talk too much, Doctor," she said, while beckoning to Dr. Weinburg, who now stood like a ghost in the corner. He took a hypo out of his pocket and came toward McCoy.

"What's in that thing?" McCoy said with a gulp. He was still fighting to face whatever was to come with a shred of dignity, but it was becoming difficult. Looking at the dead eyes of the men holding him was becoming more and more troublesome.

"It is a formula we created to ease the shock of separation," the man with the shot said. "As you figured out, many colonists have died from the procedure."

"How many had to die before you realized the moral implications of your little 'procedure?'"

"We are not monsters, doctor..."

"That's a bit hard to believe right now," McCoy said under his breath.

Weinburg continued, "Very few humans died in the proceedings before we began working on the medicine, and this was when we were ignorant of the implications the separation would bring. Many colonists were not put through it at all."

"Where are these colonists, then?"

"Unconscious, like your friends," Amara said. "They are in the barracks within the mountain. They are reinforced in such a way that your sensors could not reach. They will wake when we leave."

McCoy felt the small pressure of the hypo in his arm, and immediately began to feel a mental haze. All potential fight in him became more difficult to bring forth. Once they started walking, though, he mentally pushed himself to continue stalling.

"Why didn't...you use one of them to get your energy?" McCoy slurred.

"I saw you on the Federation news wire and wanted yours."

McCoy furrowed his brow. "Me? How would I be any different...oh." McCoy may have a muddled brain, but he still remembered T'Ra's words loud and clear. "You picked my daemon like that doggie in the window."

Amara lifted an eyebrow at the reference.

"Did you really think I was going to let a caustic backwoods chump from Georgia have such a beautiful creature?"

"You don't even know me!" McCoy shouted, disguising the insecurities which bubbled to the surface. He looked to Leauna, remembering the multiple times he had thought himself unworthy of her. He knew he should not give the words of this butcher any credence, but Amara's reasoning mirrored Jocelyn's parting words a little too perfectly.

/Focus, Len/ Leauna told him mentally. /This woman is crazy. You know I'm yours./

/Yes. I do. Sorry, 'Auna./

/It's okay, just keep her talking./

"Are...you keeping the rest of the colonists unconscious with telepathy?"

"Yes, but your friends from the ship are physically unconscious. I saw no reason to restrain them any other way. They will not get to you in time."

She sounded so sure of herself, McCoy almost believed her. "Why didn't you just...compel me to go with you?"

"I do not wish to take control of conscious minds, doctor. It is a complicated process."

The doctor could feel his conscious thought fading by the minute. He had to keep talking. He had to stay awake. He had to fight.

"Then...what about...Dr. Weinburg...what about...the gentlemen who have my arms?"

"They need a little help before they can think on their own. The human dependence on daemons runs deep after all."

"Shouldn't that...tell you something?" Leauna said. Normally she would not give those McCoy loathed the dignity of hearing her voice, but she could not think of another way to reassure her parent she was still with him.

When the group came to a wide door, Amara stopped and turned to face Leauna. She smiled at the deer with genuine warmth. She reached up and petted the daemon's head. Leauna flinched backward. McCoy looked with pure hatred at the woman who was pawing his daemon like she had some right.

"If your daughter were dependent on drugs, would you not move heaven and earth to help her?" The woman in question said evenly.

Now his anger doubled. The haze cleared enough to give her a dark look. "You have no idea what the hell you're talking about, and leave my daughter out of this!"

Leauna found the strength to pull her head away from the alien woman's touch. She reached out her neck to touch McCoy's shoulder, but could not reach. The frustration of separation and alien hands around her was adding to the anger.

"I still don't understand how you humans can be so selfish. You are a social race. You live among others on a regular basis. You have others with you all the time. I am an outcast among my people. I have no one. Is it so wrong to want what you have?"

The sympathy which welled up in McCoy was brief. "Just because you have a crappy life doesn't mean you can just take to get what you want. All the half-assed justifications in the world can't change that. I don't think you even believe all your two-bit logic."

"I am only telling you my point of view, Doctor." Amara said with an incredulous expression. She placed her hand on the door and it swished open. "If you cannot accept it, then so be it. It will not change your fate."

McCoy, whose adrenalin had now failed him, was practically dragged through the doorway into the cramped room. Inside were two metal beds separated by a thin space. each had a nylon net hanging off the side by metal clasps. Above the bed was a long horizontal blade resembling a guillotine. Infused in the blade were energy conductors - much like one would find in a lightning rod - which fed into a multitude of wires running through the ceiling.

The metal in the blade was a dingy purple, telling McCoy it was Olomite.

The guillotine brought home what the multitude of dead eyes and forced capture had not - he was going to lose Leauna...and these bastards would not let him die.

"Any ideas?" Kirk whispered to his first officer. They were backing away slowly from the pair of Kraals whose saliva dripped from their jaws in hungry anticipation. Every slow step they took, the two men mirrored it backward.

"Negative, Captain. If we run, they will pursue and overtake us. If we remain stationary, they will attack us. We could try to frighten them, but their fear quotient appears severely diminished from hunger."

"Well, for now we should keep eye contact, and make no sudden movements. I'd also suggest showing your teeth."

"These creatures do not resemble Terran mountain lions, Captain."

"We don't have much more to go on, do we?" Kirk said as he drew back his lips as far as he could. He also put his arms out to appear bigger. The animals continued their careful pursuit, and were now crouching as if preparing to pounce.

"Do you see anything we can fight them off with?"

"I am unable to look due to the eye contact I am required to make."

"Forget the eye contact. I think these animals are just as desperate as you..."

It took a fraction of a second for the animal to jump on Kirk, pinning him to the ground. The other did the same with Spock. They felt the sharp pain in their abdomens as quills stabbed into them. Kirk managed to grab the creature by the neck, although the claws digging into his shoulders made it increasingly difficult to keep it at bay.

Spock did not lose his footing when his attacker pounced. He was able to throw it to the floor and then pounce in kind, drawing on his buried warrior instincts. Although they appeared to be in a weakened state, the Kraals still had impressive agility. It was on its feet before Spock reached it, which left him with more stabs to the torso and one in the face. The contact allowed Spock to ascertain the creature did not have the mental capacity for a meld, and there were no nerves close enough to the skin for an efficient pinch.

Kirk had managed to rip one of the detached quills from the creature's stomach and was using it frantically stab at any place he could reach on the animal's body. He frequently had to use both arms to keep the large teeth from taking a bite out of his face, so opportunities were few. His arms were starting to lose strength, and he would not last much longer if the kraal continued. Finally, he managed to prod the quill into a sensitive spot and the kraal recoiled. This allowed Kirk sufficient recovery and he used all his strength to stab the quill into the animal's neck. Milky white blood squirted onto Kirk's tattered uniform as the dying kraal collapsed and thrashed in his death throes.

The captain turned to aid his friend and saw Spock overcame his attacker at roughly the same time. He managed to get his hands around its neck and break it, killing the kraal instantly.

"Took you long enough," Kirk said while trying to catch his breath. "So much for Vulcan strength."

The captain still had a quill embedded in his arm, and deep gashes all over his torso. Spock was in much the same condition, with more green on his ruined tunic than blue.

"I simply am much more cautious before I eliminate a life, Captain. Now I believe Dr. McCoy is still in need of rescue."

Kirk nodded and Aesina returned to his shoulder. Both daemons had made themselves scarce during the attack, but were feeling just as much pain and exhaustion.

Spock and Kirk continued down the hall, but at a much slower pace.

McCoy and Leauna began to squirm in the arms of their captors, but they were so weak, there was little effect. Men dragged them both to the cold metallic beds and held them in place while the nets were draped over them and tightened.

"Leauna!" McCoy called out. He turned his head to glimpse at the deer, being tied into the sitting position.

"Len, its no use. I can't fight them."

McCoy did not cry as a rule, but now he felt tears in his eyes. She was so close, and yet his arm was bound so he could not reach her. The touch he had depended on through broken hearts and hangovers and bitter fights and alien threats - he would never feel it again. The touch of the wet nose to the palm of his hand. The kind words. The arguments over how many drinks he could manage in a night. He took it all for granted. He hated himself for that now.

Leauna was his soul. The light in his life. The one who brought a smile to his face even when the world was collapsing around him. All Leauna meant to him was impossible to compound, because a daemon was everything. From the time a man is born, to the time he dies, the daemon is there - even as wives, lovers, and friends come and go.

"I love you, Leauna. You'll always be mine, no matter what."

"Len, please, don't die. If you live through this, please. We have to find each other."

"I won't live without you. I can't be less than human. That's no existence."

"We will find each other. If you live, please hold on. We will die together."

"We're not optimists. We're realists, remember? We lost. It's over. I never got to see Jo have kids. I'll never...fall in love again."

McCoy let out a sob. This time seemed far too short, especially as the men had now left his side and electric currents were beginning to make noise above them.

"I should have fought harder. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Len. Never your fault."

"I've never told you how I've felt. I thought it was too damn sentimental. Now I wish I could have loved on you every minute of every day."

"You never had to, Dummy. We're the same person."

The machine continued its calculated song, and McCoy prayed desperately for time to stop. Where were Jim and Spock? If they had not shown up by now, they never would. No last minute stays. To second chances. The close-cutting luck which defined his life had run out.

"Dammit, can I please have a few more minutes?" McCoy shouted through his tears. "I'm never gonna see her again. Please."

The workers ignored him. The taller man moved to a large red button on the wall which McCoy knew would seal their fate.

"Jim and Spock will help you through," Leauna said through her own tears.

"'Auna!"

"Goodbye, Len! Goodbye!"

The blade fell.

Kirk knew in his heart they were almost there, but the same heart did a free fall when he heard a shriek behind him. Aesina fell off his shoulders with an accompanying surge of dread - one he recognized.

Spock had crouched to take his trembling daemon in his arms. The sight was disconcerting to the captain. He had never seen Spock embrace his daemon before.

"Pain," was all he heard from T'Ra in a small voice. It was all Kirk needed to hear. He held Aesina close as she whimpered. He knew they were too late.

"Spock...we have to go. We have catch them before they're able leave."

The Vulcan nodded, and got to his feet with difficulty. He continued holding the trembling bird close to his heart. The look on Spock's face betrayed his weakened controls.

When the pair reached the hanger at last, they found the scaffold empty, the ship gone. The transparent roof was slowly closing, betraying the quick exit. Underneath where the ship had rested, a cluster of severed settlers had gathered with their hands clasped.

Kirk could not think. He merely ran toward the sight with his First Officer close behind. He pushed aside the people and saw the object of their interest.

It was McCoy.

Kirk immediately became sick when he saw Leauna was not with him. His friend was staring at the ceiling. The doctors chest rose and fell, and eyelids blinked at regular intervals. He was alive, but his eyes betrayed the extinguished fire within.

"Bones," Kirk gasped as tears filled his eyes. He fell to his knees beside the trembling body of his best friend. Immediately, he felt his friend's cold fingers digging into his arms, as if desperate for any kind of contact. Kirk shirked the decorum of a captain and took McCoy's head to his lap.

"Leauna," McCoy croaked. The voice sounded so small and childlike. It only broke Kirk's heart further.

He looked up through his tears to see the settlers still there, with heads bowed and eyes closed. They were praying. Kirk was amazed they still managed to do this. He hoped someone was listening to them, but he did not have high hopes. Any God worth a damn would have stopped this.

After a moment, Spock knelt beside McCoy as well. The Vulcan placed a hand on his shoulder, his face a picture of hidden pain. What T'Ra felt in the tunnel must have still been resonating in him. Spock normally kept his daemon's abilities under wraps since he seemed to think it undermined his logical image. In this case it was impossible.

Aesina stopped her own trembling to take a deep breath and jump to where T'Ra now stood. She put her small arms around the teresh-ka's neck.

"Leauna. Where's Leauna?" McCoy said, still clinging on to both his friends as if the contact were all keeping him alive.

"Do not fear, doctor," Spock said with his voice betraying grief and anger. "We are with you, and we will get your daemon back."


	5. Chapter 5

When the blade fell, all that existed was pain. It was physical at first - like his heart was being torn from his chest. Then there was a cold which descended over him. He felt isolated from the world and everyone in it. Like an island in a vast ocean. He became very aware of every breath and heartbeat, because they were what was keeping him in this hell.

He could not remember anything. No friends. No family. No home. Just existence was all he knew. Soon, other sensations entered his awareness, but did not bring any more light to his isolation. He knew when he was lifted from the cold surface. He knew he instantaneously found himself on another hard surface. He knew there was a loud noise which made the shiny thing above him fly away. He knew faces now surrounded him. Faces full of...something. He knew these people were like him, but how much was the question.

He saw a face he recognized. Jim. Jim Kirk. Yes, he did have a past. This isolated existence was not all there was. However, the fact he knew this man in the past was all he could muster. He knew there were feelings associated with him at one point, but none existed now.

The man he once knew had grabbed him, but not like the others had. This touch was gentle, and more careful. This was a touch he knew in the past, one which his tattered mind associated with the time before, when there was light in this world and not darkness. He latched onto Jim Kirk, hoping maybe some light would reemerge, but none did. Still, he did not let go. With the contact, he did not feel alone. He was still an island, but at least there was hope he was not the only thing in the vast expanse of nothing.

He had heard the man talking, and then remembered he could talk, too. However, only one word in his muddled mind seemed important - Leauna.

This was the name of the light - the flame which had allowed him to navigate the vast existence which seemed so alien to him now. There seemed to be memories, thoughts, feelings, and sensations in him beyond what he was comprehending. They might as well been in a foreign language. He knew Leauna could help him. He could bridge this vast chasm and understand why he lived in this unending ocean, or why the ocean existed at all.

He felt another touch on his shoulder. This contact was warmer than Jim Kirk's, but was just as gentle. He then heard a voice. So deep. So...beautiful. It was not Leauna. It was not the light. But there was hope there. Feelings had been there for him as well, although they had been different than for Jim Kirk. Through the chaos, a name emerged he could match with the melodic tones. Spock. Yes, another man he knew before. Another reminder of the existence that was. A time when things made sense.

He reached the other arm out to touch this Spock - this man who seemed to have deep feelings for him even now. When he achieved contact, it brought comfort, but no light. No Leauna. Unlike Jim Kirk, Spock tried to hide the feelings he clearly had. He did not blame this being. Feelings hurt. He remembered that much. He did not know why, but he was sure there was something bad about them. They lay beneath his existence like a standing army, ready to overtake his defenses when there was a hint of weakness.

McCoy found it odd he was using all these words when he had no way to fathom what they meant, but they sounded correct.

Kirk heard a clatter beside him which brought him out of deep grief. He turned to look at three communicators and three dead phasers. The captain mentally kicked himself for forgetting about the ship. Kirk looked up to see the little girl with flowers in her hair - he remembered her name was Annalise.

"Thank you," Kirk said. "I'm sorry we didn't get here in time to save you."

"Use them...to help us," Annalise said in monotone.

"I'll try," the captain whispered.

Kirk slid one of the communicators in Spock's direction, but the Vulcan did not seem to notice. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be fighting for control. He then noticed McCoy had grabbed at Spock's leg, and the grip appeared tight enough to reach Spock's telepathy even through the regulation slacks.

The captain wanted to ask what the Vulcan was feeling in McCoy's touch, but he could not stomach the answer yet.

The chirp of the communicator made Kirk angry at himself once more. He should have been the one to call the Enterprise first. They were likely about to send a battalion down to search for him.

"Kirk here," he said, unable to keep the catch out of his voice.

"Where the bloody hell have ye been, Captain?" Scotty said, practically yelling. "Do we need to send reinforcements?"

Kirk was unsure how to answer. "There are at least a dozen settlers down here who are in need of...help. Dr. McCoy...he needs help as well."

"What kind of help? Ye'll have to be more specific, captain."

The captain knew he could not be delicate with this situation, so he decided to come right out and say it. "I don't know what kind of help you can offer when someone's daemon's been cut away."

There was a pregnant silence of the other end of the transmission. He could practically hear the bridge crew gasp.

"Captain, what happened?"

"There was a telepath from Xarth who crashed here. She was controlling Dr. Weinburg when he summoned us. She needed energy to power their crippled ship and used half the colony and Dr. McCoy to get it. They also decided to keep Leauna as some kind of souvenir."

"Er ye and Mr. Spock okay?"

Kirk looked to his First Officer, who by now had gained some control over himself, but had still allowed McCoy's contact. The gashes he sustained had by now stopped bleeding, but he still looked quite beat up. The captain was sure he was in the same condition, although the pain had long since gone to the back of his mind. The injuries they gained when fighting the kraal seemed superficial compared to the injuries of those surrounding them.

"We will likely need Dr. M'Benga's assistance," Kirk said with a sigh. "Beam us up as soon as you can. I want to get off this damn planet."

As soon as the three officers were beamed onto the Enterprise, the unharmed colonists began to wake from their induced sleep. Kirk sent an emissary and a few counselors to help the devastated population until Federation agents arrived to help rebuild. The captain had mixed feelings about some of the colonists being alive. On one hand, there was hope for a future, but they would have to live with their loved ones' pain for the rest of their lives. Even in the era of interstellar space travel, there was no way to reestablish the bond between human and daemon. Once the shell was cracked and the energy released, it was lost forever.

Both the captain and Spock were protective of the doctor when they came abroad. Kirk found himself getting angry at the transporter chief's shocked face once he saw McCoy laying in Spock's arms materialize. He clearly did not realize he was staring.

"Get a stretcher in here. Now!" He shouted more forcefully than was necessary. This was only the first person to encounter his severed friend. He would have to get used to the stares. If he were honest with himself, he would also stare in Lt. Kyle's place.

The gurney came within thirty seconds and Spock carefully laid the older man down. McCoy's fingers grabbed at Spock's sticky blue uniform, the green blood again oozing from his wounds. Kirk took the other side of the bed, allowing some of the tension to be diffused between two.

"Oh my God," came the distraught voice of Nurse Chapel, her fox daemon hiding behind her legs.

"Don't get lost, Nurse," Kirk shouted.

The woman nodded, and appeared to be fighting for control. "Y-you will need medical attention as well, Captain."

"I'll get help once I know my friend is alright," Kirk said defiantly.

Chapel used a medical tricorder to scan McCoy. "H-his heart rate and blood pressure are far too high. His brain waves are all over the place. He might be having small seizures."

"We must put him to sleep," Spock said. "They appeared to give him drugs to ease the shock of...separation. They are now wearing off. We must keep him sedated, or his body will shut down under the stress."

"Of course," the nurse said, appearing embarrassed. The two lab techs - whose daemons gave away their own discomfort - wheeled the incapacitated doctor through the halls, his two best friends remaining by his side.

In the twelve hours since they returned from Cerebus II, Kirk and Spock had taken turns sitting by their friend's bedside. When one took vigil, the other took his place on the bridge of the ship. They had updated Starfleet on the race who had decimated the colony and their CMO. Two Admirals had suggested McCoy be transferred to a Starbase for further testing along with the other settlers, but Kirk knew what that would lead to. There were special facilities for those whose mental capacities had failed, and the doctor's current state made such a placement a given. As the Admirals had reminded him, even if they knew where Leauna was, a reunification had never been attempted. McCoy's condition was likely permanent.

One thing which had happened to Kirk and Spock's liking was a Federation-wide alert to look for the alien ship. Even if they saw getting Leauna back as futile, catching a group of murderers and mutilators was clearly in the Federation's best interest.

The main problem was no one knew where to start looking. The silver ship appeared to have a cloaking device, so Scotty did not even see it leave the planet. There was little to do but wait and continue until someone spotted the craft, or they attacked another Federation outpost. Spock knew there was little they could do in the meantime short of putting the mission on hold and dragging 430 crew to blindly search for one small ship. Starship captains were not bounty hunters, and both the Captain and his First Officer knew this. It still did not make the inactivity any easier.

"Spock," Kirk said as he roused the silent Vulcan, who was currently taking his turn at the doctor's bedside.

Spock had only then realized he had been in a trance watching McCoy sleep. His wounds had long since been patched, and now the fingers digging into his arm did not present as much discomfort. They had discovered that even when sleeping, McCoy became agitated without skin to skin contact.

"Of course, Captain," Spock said. T'Ra had been in his lap, and as he got up, he used one arm to carry her close to his chest.

/You know this is not normal decorum/ his daemon reminded him.

/I am merely experimenting with a safer way of having you with me. Are you complaining?/

/No, but I thought it worth mentioning. We have been having difficulty keeping control, after all. Our unusual closeness will make it more apparent./

When Spock slipped out of McCoy's hand, the doctor let out a pained moan. Suddenly, he wanted to ignore the captain and never leave his chair. His hesitation must have been outwardly obvious, because a night nurse put a hand on his shoulder before sitting in his place and taking McCoy's hand. While Spock was satisfied, he felt a small surge of anger.

/Jealousy,/ T'Ra said. /I feel it, too. It felt good to be the one to ease his pain, but now we are not that special./

/I did not feel this way when Jim did the same./

/Jim is Dr. McCoy's best friend. It is logical he would bring comfort. But this is a stranger, who likely only talked to the doctor on a few occasions./

Spock squeezed his companion tight in admonishment. /I will not have you doing this again. We must remain in control of all emotions. I do not get jealous, or angry. I am a Vulcan. I am the First Officer of this ship./

/Not many Vulcans or First Officers sit by the CMO's bed for hours at a time./

/The doctor becomes distressed whenever he loses physical contact with another. Jim and I would be the best candidates to do so since Leonard knows us best./

/Leonard? We have never called him that before./

/That is his name, is it not? Your attempts to distract me are not conducive to our functioning. Sometimes I contemplate what would have happened if I had taken T'Pau's advice and been rid of you./

/You know better than this, Spock. I am part of you, after all. I have towed the line for a long time because in many cases it was the right thing to do, but in this case I must speak up. Something is happening to us. Something we have never experienced before. And.../

"Spock, are you coming?" Kirk called from McCoy's office. The Vulcan realized he had been standing stationary and walked quickly to meet his weary captain. Kirk, too, was carrying his daemon in his arms, as he had done since they returned.

Kirk pulled up two visitor chairs so he and his First were facing each other. They could not bring themselves to look at the empty desk. Spock was unsure about what his friend wanted to talk about. They had gone over developments of their alternating duties earlier, but this had been the first time they were able to sit and talk without any pressing work. Someone - probably Mr. Scott - must have pushed Kirk off duty to get some rest. Judging from the lack of summons for him, Spock was expected to do the same.

/Do you see what I mean?/ T'Ra projected. /We are, as humans would say, an open book./

Kirk slumped once his backside hit the chair. He slid his hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. They still looked red and swollen, although he had not openly cried. Spock noted his normally verbose captain was at a loss for words.

"What is on your mind, Captain?"

"I feel like a wrung out sponge." Kirk groaned. He smiled sadly. "Seeing those people in the colony...I should be used to the way these missions affect me, but there doesn't seem to be an end to the creative ways sentient beings use to destroy each other."

"Have you been talking to Aesina?" Spock asked.

"You talk like I'm his therapist," the daemon in question sighed.

"I guess I just need to feel pissed right now, especially now that duty isn't intruding."

Spock nodded. "I understand, Jim. I admit it is hard to deny some negative feelings in this situation."

/Well. You are finally listening to me./

/Jim needs a friend. I am filling Dr. McCoy's role as well as I can./

"I actually called you in here to talk to you. You haven't been yourself since this whole thing started. I know these circumstances lend themselves to emotionalism, but I still feel like there is something you're not telling me about how you're feeling."

Spock felt some shock, but did not let it show. Jim had always respected his privacy in matters of emotion. He never pushed him into breaking Vulcan etiquette and exploring emotions like McCoy did. He now felt scrutinized, and somewhat embarrassed. T'Ra had been right. He was slipping. Something was happening within him. He knew Jim would not be able to give satisfactory advice, such as how a true Vulcan would handle this situation. However, he would experience far too much judgment talking to one of his peers, and there were few in this galaxy who understood him more than James Kirk.

/This flawed human has been our best friend through and through, and has accepted us for what we are. He deserves to hear everything./

The Vulcan now knew how illogical it had been to fight with T'Ra, particularly now when she had proven herself right.

"I have been fighting strange emotions, Jim."

Kirk nodded. "I don't know why you feel the need to fight them right now, but I understand. I don't know why it is strange to you to feel grief. I think most beings would know what it looks like."

Spock tightened his features at the reminder. "Grief is not what I am experiencing, Captain. Humans have an inherent desire to comfort and remain close to a sick loved one, but Vulcans have no such desires. We heal in isolation, and the closeness of others only confuses our mental processes and retards healing."

"I'm guessing from your vigil you are shirking the Vulcan norm?" Kirk said with his eyebrows to his hairline. "I would not worry about that. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you're half human. Needing to see Bones is understandable."

"We have felt empathy before," T'Ra said when the words stalled on Spock's tongue. "We also care for both you and Dr. McCoy. That is beside the point."

Spock took up for his daemon. "The need to be near the doctor proves I have encountered emotions which are slipping past my controls and interfering with my duty."

Kirk gave a knowing smile. "You have a friend in dire straits, Spock. It's to be expected. Of all the times we have been in trouble and close to death, your human side was quite conspicuous. But this time...I'm noticing some differences."

Spock looked to the brown monkey, and again to his friend's face. "I do not see how a psychoanalysis of my reactions to certain situations is relevant at a time like this."

Kirk took a deep breath, allowing the tension to leave his shoulders once he saw Spock start to squirm in his seat. "Did this...unusual surge of emotion start when McCoy was given his terminal diagnosis?"

This time, Spock could not hide his shock.

"We're more perceptive than you think we are," Aesina said, although not in the cocky tone the statement would call for. "You looked like something inside you had been stepped on the entire time. You looked the same when we met Gem. Sure you acted as Vulcan as ever, but I know you well enough to tell when you're affected."

T'Ra was now standing straight in Spock's lap, while the Vulcan was looking at the floor.

In a low voice, Spock finally said, "I acted shamefully on the planet. I made promises I could not keep. I acted rashly. I killed a living thing I could have easily incapacitated. If our captors had not shown traces of benevolence and allowed an easy escape, we would have been dead by now."

"He has been using faulty logic in his dealings with these emotions," T'Ra said, referring to Spock as separate for the first time. "Denial is not a Vulcan trait we use often, but in this case it has been used far too much."

Spock gently placed two fingered on T'Ra's stomach and continued, "This will only become worse if something is not done. I will be a poor first officer to you if I do not remove myself from this situation."

"Now Spock, let's not get hasty," Kirk said, leaning forward. "You are being fatalistic about this. Which is another emotional state, I might add."

"You are correct," Spock said with some hesitation.

Kirk smiled and said, "I think it would be easier on you if we figure out where these emotions are coming from. They seem to revolve around Bones."

"Yes, that is what we surmised," T'Ra said.

"Dr. McCoy is my friend," Spock picked up. "As you are, Jim. However, the friendship I share for you both is in stark contrast."

Kirk furrowed his brow and appeared thoughtful. "Tell me, Spock. What do you think of Dr. McCoy?"

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but found he could not. Saying what he wanted to say felt like the height of taboos. T'Ra had no such reservations.

"He is arrogant, and has a pervading emotionalism exceeds many humans. He has a penchant for imposing his views where they have no place, and has an obsession with bringing out our supposed hidden emotions while hiding his own behind a gruff exterior. However..." Spock gulped and a familiar tightness came into his chest. He could not bring himself to look at Kirk as his daemon continued. "He is also one of the kindest souls we have ever known. His caring and intelligence are unmatched. His aura is...one of the most beautiful we have ever seen."

T'Ra paused, and Spock flushed green.

"When he refused to have Gem give her life for him, we saw something in him which exceeded all we had previously seen in humanity. His respect of life - all life - exceeds most Vulcans we know. He..."

T'Ra could not continue. The tightness had encompassed Spock's entire torso. He looked up to Kirk, who was now staring at him with awe.

This time, Spock spoke. "I have never understood what role the daemon served in the lives of humans - or myself. I still do not think it is possible to know the extent of the katra's purpose in the many forms it takes across races. However, I believe I caught a glimpse when McCoy's thoughts forced their way to my awareness through our initial touch. He is lost in a thick haze of thoughts and feelings and memories, and he cannot make sense of them. There is nothing linking them together. He has neither past nor future. He feels isolated. Eternally alone. What T'Ra felt when the cut happened - the deep agony - it is still there. I do not see it going away until a way is given for him to sustain himself.

"Illogically, I want to take his pain away. Such suffused loneliness and confusion - no one should have to live like that. I even...I asked the gods to let me take his place. I would have given my soul to him if it meant he could continue. A man so good...so beautiful...I felt I had to save him. I could not accept that...I...cannot bear the idea of that soul being lost forever," Spock finished.

Kirk had to wipe tears from his own eyes now. "Me either," he said. "But...I think I have a name for what's been bothering you Spock."

Spock gulped, still reeling from how much he had just shared with his captain.

"Spock, I think you're...in love with McCoy."

Spock's first instinct was to mentally lash out at the suggestion, but a mental tug from his sentient katra stopped him. She reminded him of what happened on Omnicron Ceti III with Leila. The feelings had been artificial and spore-induced, but there was a glimmer of memory with what they felt like. His current feelings were clouded by grief, but the similarities were unmistakable.

His silence prompted Kirk to say, "I know it may seem like a leap, but I know love better than most. I know what it looks like. Your actions toward Bones...the way you have been looking at him and reaching out to him - not to mention the glow on your face when you talked about him just now..."

"Vulcans do not 'glow,' Captain."

"Well, whatever it was, it helped me put all the pieces together."

Spock nodded. His fingers dug into T'Ra. He tried to explain these sensations to himself. He wanted to tell the captain he was wrong, that he could not feel love. There was no emotion which conquered the mind and logic more than romantic love, and giving oneself to such fancies was dangerous. Now that the emotions had a name, he could sense the clawing for release.

The daemons of both men met on the floor. T'Ra was equally as moved by the realization, but was showing her feelings far more. Aesina put an arm around her. Spock cold not let himself feel comfort, though. He needed vigilance as if going to war.

"Trust me," Kirk said. "I did not intend for you to have any big revelations, especially after all this mess being so fresh. I just wanted you to talk."

Spock nodded. "I do not know whether to thank you or curse you for this."

"I'm sorry, Spock," Kirk said as he got up from his seat. He tentatively put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Now that I know what you're going through, I feel helpless. The pain of watching someone you love suffer is...there is no way to describe it."

"You cannot help me," Spock said. "What good will this knowledge have now? Dr. McCoy is an invalid. He likely will be for the rest of his life. What good will my debilitating feelings have to him?"

Kirk squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Love can be debilitating, but it can also be pretty motivating. It can drive you to move heaven and earth."

"Highly impractical, Jim. I am still a logical being at my core. I know the chances of Dr. McCoy improving. I have no drive right now but to...despair."

"No exact number this time, Spock?" Kirk said with a small grin. "You never know. Stranger things have happened."

"Jim, this conversation is not only pointless, but unhelpful."

"Spock, stop it," T'Ra said firmly. She then turned to Aesina. "I know it was not easy to hear any of this."

"All I want is for both you and Bones to be happy," Kirk said softly. "And if you can give each other even a modicum of happiness - even now - all the pain will be worth it."

"I cannot make Leonard happy," Spock said, trying and failing to reign in his antagonism. "Only Leauna could do that now."

Kirk shook his head and again sat on his chair. Spock could not look at him, and was feeling stirrings of guilt for the deflection of any comfort Kirk had tried to offer. Still, it was this man who had helped unleash the torrent of confusing feelings surging through his mind. In a small way, he now understood how McCoy must be feeling - having so many thoughts emotions swirling within with no way to make sense of them.

/There is a difference, Spock,/ T'Ra said, her frustration showing through their link. /You have me./

The silver daemon nuzzled Aesina' face in gratitude, and walked over to Kirk. She stood by his leg and put a talon on his shoe.

"You are a good friend, Jim," the teresh-ka said. "Thank you, but I feel we must be left alone now."

Kirk was touched by the small gesture of affection. He extended a single finger to touch T'Ra on the forehead, which caused Spock to close his eyes and relax as warmth eased through him. No one other than his mother had ever touched his daemon with such tenderness.

When Spock opened his eyes, Kirk had left him.


	6. Chapter 6

I just wanted to take a second to thank all of those who have been reading so far! It does a poor grad student good. I encourage ya'll who are reading to leave reviews or messages to tell me how I'm doing. This novel is already complete, but I have about eleven chapters left to post. I am not above making corrections if any glaring errors made it past editing eyes. Thanks again, and I hope you don't kill me going forward...

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Amara had become frustrated as Leauna's mind remained hard to navigate. She had wanted to establish a mental link right away - for the daemon's sake as much as her own - but there was a stubbornness in the earth creature which defied anything she had ever encountered.

"This is her first time disconnected with the human, m'lady. She might be trying to adjust," Dr. Weinburg had told her as they sat in the woman's quarters.

"She will adjust much easier if she attuned with me," Amara spat.

"But Lady Amara, you are acting like this creature cannot survive without connection to another. Would this not be a contradiction to what you have been saying?"

Amara looked to the older man with a frustrated eye. "If you continue to ask asinine questions, I will simply shape your mind into complete obedience like the others. Humans can survive, but the daemons cannot. Humans are descended from animals who do not have souls, so they have proven through ancestry they can live separately. Daemons would not exist if not for humans."

"Then we are essentially condemning the daemons to death?"

Amara stroked the trembling deer who laid in her lap. She did not appear to have any recognition of the touch, nor anything else around.

"This is why we are doing this, Dr. Weinburg. If we are to convince the humans to give us their energy, then we must provide ways for them to live as full a life as possible. This is a first step."

"Lady Amara," Weinburg said while looking down to his lap. "What if the Captain and First Officer of the Enterprise escaped the Kraals? This means word would have gotten out about what we have done and our campaign will be over before it begins."

"If they did, Dr. McCoy will have warned them not to follow us."

"Only if he had all his mental faculties. From what I have heard of Captain Kirk, he is not one to take things lying down."

"We had no choice!"

"We could have not brought our campaign upon the crew of a Federation starship! I told you to use one of the other colonists, but you wouldn't listen! Admit it, m'lady. You wanted the Federation involved. Specifically, you wanted the Enterprise. You did not care if it ruined your whole plan. You wanted the deer by your side."

The slight Xarth furrowed her brow, and looked again to the daemon in her lap. It stood so still and cold - holding none of the former beauty which had initially attracted her to it. Amara could not help but be disappointed at her catch.

"You were there when I first saw her on the Federation news broadcast," Amara said softly. "It was as if she was calling to me. We were made for each other. Even through the screen, I knew we were both looking, and wanting what we could never have."

Dr. Weinburg tilted his head. "Have you ever heard the Terran story of David and Bathsheba?"

Amara shook her head, looking confused.

"Thousands of years ago, there was a great king named David who saw a woman named Bathsheba bathing on her roof. He knew he must have her, but she was already married. So David sent her husband off to war, where he was killed, leaving David to wed Bathsheba. Well, Yahweh - which is what the Jews called God at that time - sent a prophet who told the king a story of a wealthy man who wanted a destitute trader's beloved pet lamb. The wealthy one killed the man in order to take the lamb, and an indignant King David demanded the first man be killed. The prophet then turned around and accused King David himself of being that man. Yahweh then allowed their first born child to die."

"What does one of your Jewish stories have to do with me?"

Weinburg gulped. "The colonists you severed had their daemons, and they still were not happy. In Dr. McCoy's case, you have truly left him with nothing."

"Which is what I have had my entire life!" Shouted Amara, now rising to her feet. "Your little story does not show me as the rich king, but as the ill-fated trader. I'm sure your King David had wives and harems at his disposal, and yet he wanted more, as people often do. They want their perfect lives in their perfect, shining houses eating up ores like they are in infinite supply. All this while callously discarding those who might mar the perfection. I was not just rejected by my people, Doctor. They took away my personhood - my soul - all for the sake of a more comfortable and uncomplicated existence. Now their minerals are gone, and their efforts were for naught. All those like me were relegated to the garbage pile for nothing. Interestingly, the divine punishment seems to show who really represents the whoring monarch in your story."

"But...Amara" The older man said, sounding unsure. The woman in question shook her head, frustrated at this man's continued cluelessness. "You are beautiful, and strong, and can make any friends you want. But you chose to hang onto this bitterness, which will only destroy you."

As the aged scientist fell to the ground unconscious, Amara felt rejuvenated at the extra energy at having one less mind to encompass. Although a hint of sadness touched her, she quickly quashed it. Soon, she would not need the old man anymore.

"When you wake up, you will not be as chatty," the woman said to the still form as she carried Leauna into the bedroom. She lay the small being onto the silk comforter of her bed, and looked to her with wonder. She had waited years to find the right companion, and now she was before her, waiting for her mind to be reawakened and find herself with her true lifetime partner. She just had to try harder.

"You do belong to me," Amara said with a smile. "That damn doctor did not deserve you."

She knelt down so she eye level with the creature. "I do not believe in fate, but if I did, I would say Dr. McCoy and I were switched somehow in the cosmic plan. He was meant to be cursed and lonely and I was to have the great power!"

/You do not know him/ came a familiar voice from inside. /You are simply projecting what you want to believe./

"Shut up!" Amara growled while throwing her hands to her ears. Her inner voice always showed up at horrible times.

/I will not be silent./

"No! NO! I am not weak. I will not be lonely any longer. I have come too far, and I will get what is mine. I will use this energy, and I will free my people. My powers will not be feared, but will be worshipped. The humans...they will cower before me, and every lonely Xarth cast aside will have a daemon. They will know true friendship, and no longer be miserable. The Xarth who oppressed, they will see their error, and we will inflict on them the pain they inflicted on us."

Amara was sweating and smiling maniacally. She looked to the deer again, who remained unmoved. She felt a surge of energy within her and drew the creature's mind to her once again. She could see the tendrils of bright energy emirate from her mind and curl around the broken connections which dangled from every inch of the precious daemon's body. As with her other attempts, there was resistance, but this time Amara was not as gentle. This being would die without a bond. The connection was meant to be, and it would come together naturally once initiated no matter how forced. This was for the daemon's own good, and if Amara did not make her comply now, they would not have as much time to nurture the connection. They had lost too much time already.

The tendrils became aggressive and stabbed into Leauna with quick precision. The deer let out a cry and writhed on the bed. Amara could not stop now. Her essence was beginning to take hold, and merge with the remnants of the bond. Leauna was now thrashing her legs so fiercely the sheets were now flying around her like the seas in a hurricane. Her cloven hooves reached the pillows and the white maulkin fur within began to fill the air.

/Stop.../ came a small voice. Amara knew it immediately, and it told her the connection was taking hold.

/Just a little longer dearest/ the woman cooed, as she felt the last of the broken connection meld with her own.

"There!" She shouted with triumph. The daemon had stopped thrashing, but was now buried in the ruined bedding. Amara threw the shreds of silk aside to find Leauna looking around frantically. Her color had returned, and there was again life in the large obsidian eyes - which actually contained a hidden tint of blue. Amara wondered if that was typical with the Terran deer, but banished the thought when their eyes finally met - which was a feat considering this animal's eyes were on either side of her head.

Leauna got up on shaky legs and wobbled along the soft surface of the bed into the waiting embrace of Amara.

"I have...come home?" The daemon asked in a small voice.

"Yes my dear," Amara said, hugging her close. "You are mine at last. I have waited for so long to be united with you."

"And we will...be together always?"

Amara let copious tears fall from her eyes and fall on the daemon's fur. "Yes. Always, my sweet Lea..."

She stopped, not letting the word leave her tongue. This was not the creature's name anymore now that she had taken her rightful place.

"You were about to say my name, were you not?"

Amara smiled, happy the mental bond was potent even this soon. "I have not thought of a name for you yet, but...I recently heard a name I liked better. Bathsheba."

/This would be poetic if we were in primary school/ the voice said again. This time, Amara ignored it. She had a new voice now.

"Bathsheba," the daemon said, as if trying out the name in her own voice. "I will have it if you wish it."

"I do wish it," Amara said, hugging her new companion close.

It took an hour of attempted meditation for Spock to clear his head and begin to think rationally. His love for McCoy was as strong as ever, but at least he could put it aside to dwell on logical solutions to their problem. No matter what Kirk had said, his behavior was unbecoming and could not have positive consequences. Spock had succumbed to fatalism and emotional outbursts. Now that he had a name for the feelings within him, he could look past them easier.

Much of the first hour was spent contemplating how his feelings for McCoy had become so intimate. There were many people with beautiful auras on the ship - Jim being one. Why had McCoy's caused him to fall into human love?

"I do not think there is an answer for that," T'Ra had said. Emotions being what they were, Spock simply chose to accept the random nature of this draw toward the CMO and focus on more important matters. He would look for reasons on a later date.

"I do not see how we will find any solutions unless we look inside Leonard's mind," T'Ra said.

"I require your silence if I want to ground myself," the Vulcan said, coming out of the first stage of meditation.

T'Ra flew to his shoulder. "What good would grounding ourself do if we do not know details of what is happening. I cannot sense much from him because his brain signals are nearly impossible to read. If you go deeper, we will likely have a better idea of what is happening."

"His mind is likely perilous," Spock said. "If I meld with him, the emptiness could consume me."

"Danger has not stopped you in the past. I suppose you are afraid you will be too focused on one we love being in so much pain."

"I did not say that."

"But you know it is the truth. We must meld with him anyway. It will hold the answers."

Spock hesitated. "I do not know if I will be able to control myself upon seeing the doctor's pain again."

"I know. I was there, too. Do you remember how much we wanted to alleviate his pain? We will have to risk our controls eroding further if we want to do that."

The Vulcan nodded. "Yes, I do not see any other alternatives at this time. Once we see inside Leonard's mind, we will be able to find a solution."

"You are merely repeating what I said," T'Ra said as parent rose. "This is not a problem. I am right."

Spock gathered up his shields so he could bring himself to walk out the door and face his Enterprise crew mates. He barely remembered the trip once he reached sickbay. He was determined to do his task before he changed his mind.

Spock found McCoy in the same place he had left him: asleep and deathly pale. He was clutching at Kirk's arm even though the exhausted captain had long since fallen asleep in his chair. Spock pulled up a seat at the opposite end of the bed and stared at the sleeping doctor. He was still on drugs which kept him unconscious, but he still saw the movement of eyes beneath the lids, and the subtle movement of lips trying to form words.

The Vulcan could only think of what he saw while in contact with McCoy. He had managed to block the images in subsequent contacts, but the first time on the planet reminded him of staring into true chaos and fear. Spock initially had no desire to go there again, but the hesitance eased when he looked at the pain in McCoy's features. He tried to ignore more distressing sights by focusing on the doctor's more positive aspects, but once he started he realized he could not turn back.

Leonard was an older man, and not aesthetically pleasing by many human standards. He had some grey in his hair, and his skin was starting to wrinkle in places. His body had little muscle mass. His gruff voice was not extremely seductive.

Spock found him radiant.

He remembered the look of blue eyes on him. Eyes so deep with love and compassion, like an endless sea. Spock looked on McCoy's lips and noticed how soft they looked. His hands were strong, and had healed many. His stature had exuded confidence which often rivaled Jim's. This was a man who would give his life for his friends and his ship. He had proven it time and time again. He was not merely a doctor, but a healer. A guide. A priest.

T'Ra had been perched on the bed rail, simply watching Spock. She had stayed silent, because there was no need to speak. She knew now was not the time to join this moment. With good fortune, that would come later.

Spock reached a hand out and gently stroked one of McCoy's cheeks. Although cold, it still had an endearing softness the Vulcan desired to explore further. He moved to cup the cheek, and Leonard leaned his head into the touch. The move nearly shattered Spock. If there were any remaining doubts about his feelings for Leonard McCoy, they were erased.

His love was in pain, and maybe dying. His limp, miserable form was crying out for his soul to come back to him - to end the isolation and confusion.

Spock let two tears escape this time, and held back the sob that fought to escape. He loved this man. He loved this man beyond description. He had to help him. He had to find a way.

"No!" He shouted, realizing he had nearly allowed the power of his emotions to overwhelm him. He remembered the one other time this had happened: when he was infected by the toxin from PSY 2000. The emotions had been like a billowing dust storm - impossible to avoid or navigate. Now, he had a better modicum of control, but there were similar sensations growing within. The emotions were gathering strength, and there was no outside influence to give the blame to this time.

He retreated to the comfortable haven of logic, but even this was not as solid as it once was. The daemon was at the center of their current predicament, and it followed no processes he could quantify in his vast mind. The only scientific concept he could apply would be matter-energy conversion. The daemon was essentially a hologram, mimicking a burgeoning technology similar to the food replicators which could project physical forms using nothing but electronic energy. Daemons were created from psychic energy expended at birth, although no one knew why such an outward physical manifestation occurred. Evidence of the first daemons has been found in ancient African tribes 50,000 years old. Stone coins engraved with images of animals were found with buried corpses, which mirrored burial tradition of later civilizations allowing some way for the daemon and man to be together in the grave. There were likely instances before this, but there is no way of knowing.

This was the extent of understanding. The course of human evolution was mapped in every detail except when and how the daemon emerged. For all intents and purposes, it just "appeared" out of no where. None of the laws of physics, chemistry, astronomy, or biology accounted for the daemon. Spock had no frame of reference and no ability to discern a course of action except through the mysticism of his ancestors. But even those annals were ripe with uncertainty. Vulcans had no concept of daemons, and the human mysticism was too diverse and full of emotionalism to be of any use.

"I have been waiting a long time for this," T'Ra whispered. "There is now a problem we must look beyond science to solve. The only way is to stop seeing our emotions as confining and begin using them to our advantage."

"If you were not a part of myself, such a statement might be viewed as uncouth."

"Yet you know better. The only way to learn how to harness emotions is to actually harness emotions, but you have neglected to do this. I must say, I had been a long wait for me."

"There was no need."

"I doubt that, but the past is past. There is a need now. I am sure you can admit that readily."

Spock did not reply.

"I think it is time for our meld," She urged while glancing toward Kirk to make sure he was still unconscious. Spock was still uncomfortable with letting Jim see this side of himself.

Spock slowly moved his fingers to McCoy's psi points. He hesitated in going in, knowing what he would find there. But one look at the drawn face of McCoy gave him motivation. He dropped his shields and entered.

Almost immediately, Spock was hit with the chaos and confusion of McCoy's mind. The closest Spock could equate the feel to were the illogical works of art by the Terran painter Jackson Pollack. The colors, the lines, the noises - none had any form or meaning.

Spock tried to push past the chaos and see if he could see deeper, or "beyond the brambles" as Leonard would put it. If he were a less focused creature, he knew the intensity of the confusion would have overwhelmed him already. Still, no amount of focus could protect his mind for much longer.

/Here, I'll lead the way,/ came the confident voice of T'Ra. If they were on a physical plane, the Vulcan would have been immediately on the back of his daemon, flying through the maelstrom as a knife cuts through butter.

As they flew, they saw the thoughts beginning to organize themselves, and the images appeared more sensical. Spock waded through and recognized feelings of hunger, thirst, fear, and many other basic, uncomplicated feelings.

/Fascinating,/ Spock said during their flight. /All necessary survival mechanisms appear perfectly intact. These are the more primal areas of the mind - the part humans inherited from animal ancestors./

/So it is only the higher functions which are affected,/ T'Ra replied. /Everything which defines an intelligent being. Have any mind melds gone this far?/

/Not that I recall, but I suspect it was more for lack of need than for safety./

/Nonetheless, we should leave. We do not want to damage any essential functions./

/Not yet. This could shed light on the purpose of daemons. They must function as some form of adaptation to cope with such a complex existence. All katras could serve that purpose./

/But why something so metaphysical as a katra?/

/The 'why' is best left to philosophers and priests. I am only interested organizing this into something which can allow Leonard to function while Leauna is gone. If he is fully awake long enough, the storm in his mind will stress him into either brain death or complete death./

/Being asleep does not appear to be helping him. It is only killing him slower./

/T'Ra, did we not learn about the clearing of unorganized mind channels in school?/

/Yes, but never on this scale. I am not hindered by the immensity of the task, though. A sentient katra gives you greater mental prowess in the human mind./

/Then we must attempt to use Leonard's own energy to create a clear picture he would recognize. It will only be temporary, but it will help us navigate better./

Spock and T'Ra did as they decided. Before they left the primitive area of McCoy's mind, they drew on the occipital and survival energy stored there. Although it was not ideal, it was the only power they had to organize the images. They then flew back into the higher mind functions, and were again hit with the overwhelming cacophony. Vulcan and daemon used their own mental energy to encompass the endless sea of confusion, and try and use the millions of points to create a single picture.

For a time, the chaos did not respond. In fact, there seemed to be something fighting back within the mind.

/No,/ Came a weak mental voice. /Leave me alone. I know you're not her./

/Dr. McCoy. It is Spock. Please, I am trying to help you./

/Spock. I know that name./

/Yes,/ T'Ra said. /We are your friend, and we are going to help you get Leauna back, but first you must let us do this. We need to get a good look at your mind./

/And...this will get Leauna back?/

Both Vulcan and daemon were affected by not only the smallness of the voice, but the quick trust. While it currently served their purpose, they saw how it could easily be misused. It was also very unlike the CMO, particularly where mind melds were concerned.

/Yes, it will./ Spock said, and immediately the chaos was encompassed and the power for the primitive mind began organizing the information into a simple image. Spock's energy gave McCoy's mind the power it needed to finish the job.

Spock and T'Ra were soon looking at each other, as if standing on a physical plane. The silver daemons flew to Spock's shoulder, and realized the sensations of touch were eerily similar. They found themselves in a seemingly endless desert. There were no sand dunes, nor life forms of any kind, and the sand was so dry there were cracks as far as the eyes could see.

Spock had never seen such a desert. The lands of Vulcan were dry, but were at least arid enough to support life. This land did not even look hospitable to microbes.

"Over there," T'Ra urged. The Vulcan looked in the direction she had faced, and saw a lone figure lying in the distance who appeared to not be moving. Spock trotted toward the creature and saw it was indeed human. In fact, it was McCoy.

"Leonard!" Spock shouted, running faster. He came upon his friend lying face up and naked in the oppressive sun. His skin had been burned beet red, his lips were dry and cracked, his breathing was labored, and his entire form was emaciated.

Spock shirked control and fell to his knees to take the suffering form in his arms. McCoy's eyes were closed, but his next words showed he knew who was with him.

"You have a good...bedside manner Spock."

Spock fought with all his might to keep himself together. A loss of concentration could be deadly here.

"This is not explained by our previous hypothesis," Spock said, trying in vain to save face. "What would this have to do with a mind which cannot organize itself?"

"That is a question we must answer after we save his life," T'Ra said. "Judging from the image Leonard's mind has provided us with, we must first give him some water."

"And shade," Spock completed.

"There will be none here, but there should be some in our own mind."

"What brings you to that conclusion?"

"Because there is an oasis in the direction we came from. That must be the border with our own mind, or at least how Leonard sees it."

Spock looked where his daemon had mentioned and saw there were indeed silhouettes of trees. On Earth, where there was plant life, there was water.

"Fascinating," Spock said slowly, trying to ignore the rush from McCoy seeing his mind in such a way.

"Come, Doctor," Spock whispered to his friend as he scooped him up in his arms and began to carry him out of his barren mind. It took nanoseconds to cross into the lush greenery, and feel cool mist which emanated from the nearby water source. What Spock had thought was only an isolated body of water was a wide and flowing river which separated them from a dense jungle. Spock knew such a stark climate contrast could not exist on Earth, but it made sense in the environment of their two minds.

"It will be best to start slow," T'Ra said, feeling her parent's instinct to immerse McCoy immediately.

The Vulcan propped McCoy on a rock near the riverbed. He took some on the cool, clear water in his hand and brought it to the doctor's lips. McCoy let out a groan of relief.

Spock continued to feed him sips of water and occasionally poured some over McCoy's head and shoulders. He saw the dry, cracked lips were looking more full and pink, and the sunburn was beginning to fade. This was a good sign, but it would not be enough to sustain McCoy outside of the meld.

"Feels good," McCoy croaked as he started to open his eyes. He pushed himself upward to adjust his position on the rock, which showed Spock he was getting stronger.

"Do you wish to navigate in the water, Doctor?" Spock asked. "You appear strong enough."

"Well," McCoy said as he looked toward the nearby stream. "I reckon it's just what I need. If I get washed away, I'm sure you'll save me."

"That it correct," Spock said as he helped the CMO to his feet.

McCoy took small steps down the bank, allowing the water to flow over his blistered feet. He closed his eyes and smiled at the cooling sensation as he continued deeper. Spock had let him go by the time he got up to his ankles. Once he was up to his thighs, McCoy bent to drink like the thirsty man he was.

As McCoy went deeper, Spock noticed color returning to his friend's hair. The sunburn had gone away, his body was no longer deathly thin, and he actually had a smile on his face.

T'Ra joined her parent and they watched the doctor swim through the river with contentment. He looked at home and rejuvenated, but the Vulcan knew this could not last. Their minds would have to separate again, but through this vision, Spock knew he had given McCoy the strength to function for the time being. He would not know how this would translate to McCoy's physical form until the meld was completed.

Spock broke the meld carefully, but abruptly. He immediately looked at the chronometer to see the meld lasted only five standard minutes.

"Spock?"

The Vulcan looked immediately back to McCoy, whose voice sounded much fuller. His eyes were wide open, the spark of life returned to them. Spock noted, however, it was not to the same level as before.

"Spock. What happened? What..." McCoy's hand then traveled to his heart, where the bond with Leauna had originated. He curled his hand into a fist. The distraught look on his face made it clear he remembered yesterday's events.

"D-did they take her? Did they take Leauna?"

Spock took a deep breath. "Yes. I am...sorry, Doctor."

McCoy put his head in his hands, but let out no sound. The readings from T'Ra indicated the doctor was trying to have strong emotions, but only small ones were forthcoming. There was then trepidation such a loss was not causing as much pain as it had before the separation. Still, pain was the most potent sensation inside McCoy, which made Spock want to take the man in his arms and comfort him. Before he could move to do so, the doctor looked up to him with a confused and somewhat angry expression.

"Spock. What did you do? I remember...I know you...how?"

"I took you in my mind. I let you have some of my mental energy so you could function. Otherwise, you would have died."

McCoy said nothing. He then looked back at toward Spock, but focused on T'Ra with an amused look in his eyes.

"Can't have that, can we?" The doctor said with some bitterness.

Spock visibly flinched at the venom in the doctor's voice. McCoy had lay back in bed, his face faraway.

/He did not mean what I thought he meant, did he?/ Spock asked his daemon. /Did he honestly expect me to let him die?/

/Probably/ T'Ra replied. /He is still hard to read. I will say you are likely not his favorite person right now./

Spock fought the urge to sigh, and walked to the other end of the bed. Their captain deserved to see McCoy now that he was awake.


	7. Chapter 7

"There you go," McCoy said as he finished repairing Commander Giotto's broken leg. "You should be good to go if you stay off it for the next couple days."

He cringed as he said the words with put-on cheer. Even after three months of practice, it still sounded fake.

"Thanks Dr. McCoy," the chief of security said with a smile. He had his hands balled into fists on his lap. It was not from pain, but rather an effort not to pet the German Shepard daemon at his side. McCoy recognized the gesture because he had seen it frequently as of late when his human friends tried to ignore their daemons in his presence. The doctor looked to the floor and glanced at the empty space beside him. He could never get used to it, and prayed he never would.

The doctor stepped out of the way to let his patient through. Giotto walked steadily on the healed leg, but nearly stumbled when he put too much weight on it too soon. McCoy reached out to catch him, but Giotto instinctively flinched away from the touch. This was not the first time such a thing had happened, but it still hurt.

Giotto looked apologetically at McCoy, but said nothing. What could he say? He simply nodded and carefully limped out. The doctor did not feel anger at him, but he did want to growl about how nonsensical it was to act in such a way. He knew the desire to rant was merely an habit from a former life, and if he were to do it now, it would have no purpose. Still, the truth remained. It wasn't like he had a disease. He was just...alone.

McCoy was glad the security chief was his last patient from the recent botched landing party, and therefore his last patient of the day. He knew the pangs of loneliness were the first signs. Soon the reality around him would begin to waver, and then his ability to make decisions and access his intellect would suffer.

"Chris!" McCoy called to the nurse, who was wrapping up her own work in the lab. "Call Spock."

The doctor did not wait for a response before he staggered to his office and dropped into his chair. Reminiscence was not normally part of his regular deterioration back into madness, but he found himself starting to think back to the last few months, and how his life had gotten to this point.

The first day he had come to awareness after his 'intercission,' he wondered how it had been possible to feel somewhat normal without a soul. All he knew was that his mind had the fingerprints of Spock all over it. Seeing the Vulcan sitting by his bed confirmed his suspicions. That day, he needed several more melds, but as the days and weeks went on, he needed fewer and fewer until eventually one in the morning was enough to get him through the day.

During the entire process, all he wanted was to tell Spock to stop and let nature take its course, especially since the Vulcan was looking more and more drained with every meld. However, the 'wounded puppy' looks of his two friends were enough to make him hold his tongue. They kept him from saying what he really thought: if they knew what it was like to have their daemons taken from them, they would know keeping him coherent was a bad idea.

As the days wore on, McCoy became accustomed to this new life. He even managed to convince Admiral Komack he was competent enough to act as CMO again. If he were honest with himself, he only agreed to it so he could do something rather than sit around and think about Leauna being gone. It was not an ideal situation. The stares he endured from the crew were bad enough as it was. Having to deal with them as patients would only be worse.

The only small relief he found was through Kirk and Spock. Sure, they did not treat him as they had before, but they still treated him more human than others did. When he interacted with Spock, it was as if their occasional melds did not exist, and they merely were friends, sniping at each other when the opportunity arose - though the comments on their varying emotional states were now nonexistent. Kirk was no different. His friend had taken him on shore leave shortly after the incident and he had some fun. It felt almost like old times, with the exception of having Spock inject him with mental energy every night. However, Aesina did not speak to him, nor has she since. He could not tell them about the fears he had as he continued his medical work in Sickbay, and the buildup of tension had been straining his attempts to act normal.

McCoy knew the reasons he had become a doctor. He had what his father called 'the heart of a healer.' Although he initially called bullshit, he soon discovered what that meant. He loved healing people. He loved comforting people. The feeling of doing the Lord's work sustained him through the failures which came with a career in medicine, and led him to constantly conclude his choice of profession had been worth it.

In the past few months, the good feeling was gone. More and more, his patients felt like a burden. The strong desire to alleviate suffering was replaced by wanting as few people in the sick bay as possible. The lift in his spirits when a patient was no longer in pain was replaced by an envy of the people who still had their daemons.

He knew the crew noticed his change in attitude, but as far as he knew, no one had complained about it. This would not last long, though. People who he once considered friends now looked at him like an enigma, and soon would have no qualms about turning him in should he make a mistake. His futile attempts to appear normal only seemed to make his condition more conspicuous. If his impressions were to be trusted, his condition was perceived as a communicable disease. He was becoming a leper in what had once been his home. Even the friendships with Kirk and Spock could not relieve that.

The doctor knew he could not go on like this. There would soon come a day when Starfleet would get wind he was not fully competent and give his post to someone else. He would go to a facility where Spock could not get to him and he would be forced to live his remaining days in the shell of loneliness the surviving Cerebus II settlers had been living. He had already got word five of them had died, and he did not expect the statistics to remain there. From what he gathered, the little girl with the flowers in her hair was not one of them, although her parents were. His focus on her was not helping matters. He somehow saw little Annalise as a symbol. If she could get her daemon back, all was right with the world. It would be like healing the severed girl in Appalachia - who likely was now in her forties with a belittling husband to add to her misery.

Such reunions appeared remote, though. They had shared the knowledge of Spock's procedures with Starfleet medics, but no telepath or healer would try similar melds with the other severed people. Despite Spock appearing unscathed, fear for one's own katra outweighed compassion. It only reinforced McCoy's view of how brave Spock was, and how much he cared.

McCoy jumped when the Vulcan finally entered. He was beginning to feel his vision distort around him, and had already put his face in his hands to stave off the tsunami. Without a word, Spock walked straight over to him and immediately moved the doctor's hands out of the way before initiating the meld. The familiar desert came upon them, followed by McCoy being led to Spock's river, where he drank until he had his fill. Then the connection was broken just as quickly as it had begun, and the doctor was once again coherent.

McCoy leaned back, and sighed in relief the darkness had been kept at bay for a little longer. No matter how much he wished Spock would just back off and let him go, there was no denying the relief when he was back from the brink.

"I apologize for taking so long, Doctor," Spock said, now standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back. "I had to finish some extra tasks on the bridge before I went off duty. I also compiled my findings on Lady Amara which might help us understand her intentions. I have just told the captain to meet me in my quarters to review them. Are you able to join?"

/It's about time you finished your damn research/ McCoy thought, although he knew it was not fair. He looked to the daemon on the Vulcan's shoulder and could have sworn he saw T'Ra flinch, as if McCoy's words had been audible. T'Ra was only an empath, and Spock could only enter minds by touch, so there was no way that could be the case, unless...

"If you are busy, we can examine it another time, Doctor," Spock said a little too quickly.

"Oh...no," McCoy replied. "I can go, but is there a reason you're not going to Starfleet with this first?"

"You and Jim deserve to know this information before anybody else. You are the one affected the most, while Jim has been putting the most effort in finding Lady Amara's ship."

McCoy lifted his eyebrow in acknowledgment that it made sense, although it was not the most logical course of action with their manhunt. In a former life, he would have commented on Spock making this decision for a more emotional reason, but by now he was getting used to his friend forgoing logic when it came to himself and Jim. He was as computerized as ever on the bridge, but if the doctor could bring himself to care, he would be thankful for what the Vulcan had been giving him in the past months.

The twinge of hope was illumined as he followed the Vulcan to meet Kirk. Every time they had a lead on where the silver ship had gone, it came back, not matter how many times they turned up empty. McCoy had a morbid fascination with how the only feelings he was able to have lately only served to enhance his suffering.

They arrived at the dark and warm suite with Kirk already waiting for them. Aesina was bouncing on his lap, her tail swinging back and forth like a pendulum. It betrayed Kirk's demeanor, which appeared weary.

"How're you feeling, Bones?" The captain asked his friend.

"Fine. Your landing party is all healed up, so you can get over the guilt of not going on one damned away mission."

"Gentlemen," Spock said, clearly eager to share his findings. He seated himself at the computer and placed the disk in its proper place. Immediately, a clear photograph came up of a younger Lady Amara. Around the picture were words written in the Xarth language. The universal translator had not yet incorporated Xarth writing, but the format clearly showed the men it was a wanted poster. McCoy tensed as he saw the face again, remembering her grimy yellow finger's on Leauna's head.

"As you know," Spock began. "The telepathy of Lady Amara was something which caused great consternation among Starfleet investigators. Xarth citizens were thought to be psi-null, and for the most part they are. This caused us to not look toward Xarth too deeply. However, I began to read more about Xarth culture, I determined they are quite dismissive of certain citizens. It can be compared to Earth India's caste system. The difference is that these citizens are not born into their state, but rather pushed into it. The reasons why range from criminal acts to aggressive personalities. In Amara's case, her powers made others fearful of her, and she was cast out to live alone at the age of two, which is the equivalent of age seven in Terran years.

"These citizens are relegated to life outside the cities where they are made to work menial and dangerous jobs. In severe cases, such as Amara's, they are forced to live alone as hermits. There is not official Xarth name since these people do not officially exist, so I would say calling them untouchables is appropriate.

"As you can imagine, the Xarth do not want their treatment of this element widely known, which is why there will be no record of them in their data banks. I only found out about them through alternative holo papers which make a point of exposing the less favorable elements of various planets.

"As I said, among these untouchables are criminals, so unlike other planets in the explored section of the galaxy, they are reluctant to release their information on interstellar fugitives. Since Xarth is not yet a member of the Federation, their lists of wanted fugitives are not known to us. Despite this, I did contact Sarek and he obtained this record of our Lady Amara. Later in her life she committed crimes to earn her an interstellar fugitive status."

"So she is Xarth," Kirk asked, his eyes occasionally glancing toward McCoy. "That would make sense. The only reason they want to join the Federation is because the are running out of natural resources to produce energy. Amara must think discovering a new energy source will help get her face off that poster."

"She very well may desire that Captain, but such an outcome appears unlikely. She might have done so had she not committed an unforgivable crime."

"Hold it a minute," McCoy chimed in. "Why the hell does she have to use people as an energy source? There has to be an easier way."

"Unfortunately for you, Doctor, this woman is not entirely sane, likely due to her forced isolation."

"Dammit, Spock, don't try to make me feel sorry for her."

"No one is asking that," Kirk said. "What I am more interested in is where these powers come from. That might give us a clue of how to get past them."

"From what I gathered," Spock replied. "It appears her powers are simply a product of chance. While rare, there are random genetic mutations which can cause strong telepaths be born out of psi-null races. Amara was one of these. She was the daughter of a scientist who was attempting to improve Xarth's interstellar capabilities. He is the creator of the silver craft, although it was only listed as being used for personal purposes. Some exposure to radioactive energy sources might have been to blame, but there is no way of knowing."

"So just the standard telepath procedures, I guess," McCoy said, staring at his nails. He was no longer trying to hide his melancholy. This report was turning out to be like every other tip and information source they had obtained in the past few months. It promised some way of finding his soul, but amounted to nothing. Spock was clearly doing his best to gather all the information he could, but the doctor could not help but think it futile.

"What did she do that was so unforgivable, Spock?" Kirk asked.

"She had grown up as an untouchable, which could likely explain her desire for a companion. Relations among untouchables - sexual or Platonic - are forbidden. She honed her powers in secret for years. She soon became so powerful, she was able to control large groups of minds at once.

Although strong, she had limits. Amara could only control those whose minds were already compromised. In this case, she used a coma ward at one of the Xarth hospitals as a secondary source of her army. The primary source were a large group of untouchables who chose to join her side. Her advance almost took over the government. The only reason she did not succeed was because Xarth managed to craft a drug which lessened mental faculties, and administered it in the form of a dart. It caused her to lose concentration, therefore she was able to be captured and she lost control of a vast majority of the rebels. Without the support of their leader, the sentient soldiers either fled or were captured.

"After she spent several months in custody, she gathered enough of her faculties to gain back control of five followers to set her free. She then commandeered one of her father's ships, and disappeared. No one has had a confirmed sighting of her until the incident at Cerebus II."

"At least by Federation people," Kirk said. "She must have had some contact with Romulans or Klingons, judging by the cloaking device."

"How she obtained one a mystery," Spock continued. "However, this is irrelevant, because in order to continue hiding in her ship, Amara must obtain energy. Based on the plans I found, there is only one method of fueling the engines, which is a mineral found only on Xarth they call, appropriately enough, Xarthonium. However, the mineral is nearly gone because of over mining. The only other way to divert power to the engines is to transmit energy of the purest form. Electricity would be one way, but there is little lightning on Xarth, so there would have been no understanding as to how electricity is collected."

"There are no daemons on Xarth, either," McCoy said.

"As I have said, Doctor, I cannot thoroughly explain Lady Amara's thought processes, particularly since she is not in her right mind. I can only speculate. Sources from Xarth do confirm she was obsessed with saving her planet, which is likely why she attempted to seize power. She sees her acts as admirable, and once she is focused on a solution, she is unlikely to stray from it, despite evidence presented to her. There is also a general association between the Federation and humans. The connection might make this method of energy collection an attractive option.

"Based on the amount of energy she obtained from the planet, she will need to obtain more in approximately two months, eleven days, two hours, and forty-six minutes. Any time between then and now, she should be seeking large concentrations of humans."

"Which means they should become visible," Kirk said, with some lift in his voice.

"Exactly, Captain."

Kirk rose to his feet swiftly and popped the disk out of the computer. "Is all the information you shared with us on here?"

Spock nodded.

"Then I'll send it to Starfleet immediately so all human colonies and Starbases can be on the alert. We will grab them before they have a chance to do this to anyone else, and we should get your daemon back, Bones."

Kirk turned to McCoy and gave him his trademark grin. The doctor did his best to mirror the captain's enthusiasm by smiling. He still did not know how he would feel when - or if - he saw his daemon again. There was no way to put them back together, so what good would having her back serve? The only thing which gave him consolation was that her kidnappers could be brought to justice. Anticipation welled up when he thought of doing unspeakable things to the yellow bitch who stole his girl and tried to kill his friends. The chance to do so almost made life worth living.

He could see it now, having that thin neck under his throat. The psychic powers trying to paralyze him in vain. Watching the smugness squeeze out of her as she gasped for breath.

In his reverie, his eyes drifted to T'Ra, who was now looking at him with fear. Did she know what he was thinking? Why did the idea bother him so much?

McCoy chided himself for his stupidity. He knew why. He never would have had such violent thoughts before he lost Leauna. This was not the first time inhuman ideas came to him, but he had never let them fester and grow before. Under the teresh'ka's scrutiny, he was reminded of the continued humanity of his friends, and that he used to share their compassion and respect for life. What was he turning into? He saw no point to it now, except that a holy man 2200 years ago said to. He remembered taking those words to heart, and treasuring others above himself, like Spock and Jim were now doing with him.

His friends were selfless to a fault. Even as he took and took, they still gave. Spock gave in mental energy, and Kirk gave his shoulder and his time. He remembered being Kirk's confidante, but now all he did was participate in meaningless activities. Sure, it helped him be less lonely, but what did it do for his friend? Spock was even worse. What had McCoy given back to him? Could he give back anything? How long would they go on like this?

"Bones?" Kirk asked his friend, starting to notice his distress. "We'll find her, and we'll get you back together. We'll find a way."

"You sound so sure of yourself, Jim," McCoy said, now looking at the floor. "It's not so easy to be optimistic when you've been sliced in two."

"I know," Kirk said while reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. Aesina climbed halfway down his arm to give support, although she still remained at a distance. Daemons never touched other bodies as a rule except in extremely intimate situations, so the doctor did not expect the monkey to come closer. Still, even the offer from Jim was too much. McCoy moved away to reject the touch, tired of all the compassion he was not able to return.

"What is troubling you, Doctor?" Spock asked. Now he was wearing the same expression as T'Ra. McCoy felt a clench in his heart. He could not answer. He could not burden this man any more. He could not burden either of them anymore.

"Thanks for the info, Spock, but I just want to be alone right now."

Without a look back, McCoy left Kirk's quarters and made his way to his own, looking at the floor so he could not see the pitied looks of his peers.

Kirk rubbed his face, hoping to get some of the fatigue out of his eyes. These past few months had been rough on the young captain. Their mission had continued as it always had, but without the solid object of his best friend standing by his side. He was finally starting to distinguish the roles Spock and Bones played in his life. Both fulfilled his needs in different ways, but were equally important. Now one half of that was gone, and was suffering before his eyes.

"He looks bad," Kirk said to Aesina once they made it to their cabin. Spock had quickly asked him to leave after McCoy had left. He had desperately wanted to have a long overdue follow-up with Spock on how his feelings for McCoy were progressing. The only talk which was more overdue was a serious talk with Bones.

"He's getting worse," Aesina replied. "You'd think with needing less melds, he'd be getting better."

"He's 'adjusting,'" Kirk said with the accompanying fingers. "He's getting used to not having Leauna. His body is settling into its new life."

"And that life sucks."

"Bingo."

The pair collapsed onto the bed, and Aesina crawled to Kirk's chest and curled into a ball. Kirk stroked her tenderly.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you." Kirk whispered.

Aesina put a small paw on his wrist. "I'm not going anywhere, Jim."

"That's what Leauna said."

Kirk's voice broke a bit as he said her name. It felt like a betrayal, saying the name of the creature he had failed so miserably.

"Stop blaming yourself," Aesina said. "It will do no good."

"We should have found something by now. There should have been some kind of sign of those...monsters."

"Spock's report will help us find them."

"And meanwhile, Bones dies a little bit more inside. Every day he looks more physically healthy, but mentally he's slipping away."

"Is it the result of not having a daemon, or Bones just...giving up?"

Kirk closed his eyes. "I don't know. I wish I did. I'm afraid to ask. He seems to be withdrawing - spending more time alone."

Kirk did not like to think about how lonely it would be without a daemon after having one since infancy. Every time he saw McCoy enter his cabin as if it were a gas chamber, he was reminded of the desolation which must be in the man's heart. He had offered many times for them to possibly share a cabin, but he had always refused.

"We promised ourselves we would not dwell on this. It will not help anybody," Aesina said with a sad voice. "We have to think of this like any other mission."

"It's not. It's Bones."

"It shouldn't matter. We are the captain of this ship. The best thing we can do for Bones is to do our jobs so this doesn't happen to anybody else."

Kirk nodded. He knew his daemon was right. He had been doing his job, but he knew he was spending what would have been leisure time looking up leads and sifting through visitor logs on every colony and Starbase to find any sign.

"And don't forget Spock. Who knows what those melds are doing to him?"

Of course. His other best friend was changing as well. The Vulcan had been slipping in his emotional controls much more often. True, he had lightened up quite a bit since he had first came to the Enterprise, but the past few months seemed to be drawing him closer to McCoy's personality. He was raising his voice more often and acting impulsively. He was fiercely logical as always, but his efficiency and brain power seemed to have diminished. He was not to the point of being useless, but his lapses were clearly embarrassing him and disturbing the crew.

"I'm not sure what else to do. The melds are the only thing keeping Bones together."

Aesina started to play with a wrinkle in Kirk's tunic while her parent continued to stare at the ceiling. His body sunk into the bed as his being was consumed by thoughts and feelings about his two friends. They could not continue as they were. The gaping wound could not be sustained by a band-aid. Real healing must take place. However, James Kirk - the man with the plans and miraculous rescues - was coming up empty.

After finishing his last bottle of Jack Daniels, McCoy still could not find rest. No amount of drinking could make him forget. The all consuming loneliness from his severed state may not have been present, but the normal everyday loneliness certainly was. Every night, he dreaded returning to his room, where he would hear nothing but the sound of his own breath. It never got easier. In the past week, all he wanted to do was go to one of his friends' rooms and ask to sleep on the floor. He never did it, though, thinking it would show how not okay he was.

The friend he most wanted to go to was Spock, although he was unsure why. The warmth of this cabin sounded very appealing right now. His cabin felt cold and empty, and whenever he turned off the lights, he saw visions of an oppressive purple guillotine over his head.

As the light continued to keep him awake, he thought about what it would be like when he finally lost everything he treasured about himself. If these psychopathic tendencies were to be nursed, then he could possibly lose the relationships he treasured so much. What next? Would he enjoy watching other people suffer? Would he enjoy the company of others at all?

What would Leauna say if she saw him getting a hard-on at choking the life out of someone?

McCoy tried to banish the name from his mind, but it was too late. Memories of her warm body next to his on the bed came rushing back. He remembered how she weaved between his legs while he shaved and joined in his grumbling when he had to pull on his dress uniform. He remembered having to pick pieces of alien gravel from her hooves and watching her stagger when he had too much to drink. He remembered the feel of holding her on the rare occasions he let himself break down in tears - once when Jocelyn moved out, and once when he was dying. She would not speak, just join in his sorrow, because they were one, and had shared a destiny.

No one would share his destiny again.

McCoy could not take the isolation anymore. He had to get out. Clad in his pajamas, he quickly left his room and soon found himself at the door to Spock's cabin. Suddenly, the determination left him, and he could not bring himself to ring the bell. Thankfully, he did not have to. Spock opened the door, clad in black meditation robes. T'Ra was perched on the nearby bed.

"Doctor," Spock said. The word seemed to carry more weight, in that it seemed to contain all the emotion the Vulcan refused to show. Spock's caring was not as tangible outside of the melds, but now it seemed to permeate. Rather than making McCoy feel further guilt, it beckoned.

"Can I...stay with you tonight?" The doctor asked before he changed his mind.

Spock nodded and allowed McCoy to enter.


	8. Chapter 8

Warning: themes of suicide are going to come up in this chapter.

* * *

The king of Xarth was a tall and muscular man, whose only indication of age was the dark grey streaks in his pure white hair. However, his demeanor was downtrodden, betraying the weakness he felt inside. Every day, he felt more helpless as his people continued to suffer from a crisis all too evident in his once elegant throne room.

His billowing silken robe flowed over the sides of the throne, which had been constructed in a way to allow the copious light to reflect and create a shine. Every surface on Xarth was designed in such a way due to the high regard for light in the culture. Since generations past had higher esteem for safety, the large hall had no windows, but they had made up for it with large electric lights and glittering surfaces. Now, the only illumination came from large candle sticks along the once glittering runner. The light barely reached the ceiling, where the large electric chandeliers hung unused. Chandeliers whose light once made this room the most bright and beautiful place to spend his days.

King Achban looked to the large timekeeper on the wall with trepidation. The time was coming near when he would be made to take a call from his last great enemy, Lady Amara. He rarely showed fear in front of his court, but when he received word their most wanted fugitive had contacted them, he let his eyes go wide and face pale. He hoped it was for an offer of surrender, but he could not fathom such a thing happening. Everyone in his cabinet urged him to refuse correspondence with her, but he was intrigued by her claim of discovering energy sources which could replace Xarthonium.

The desperation for new energy sources was what had driven his talks with the Federation, but it was not an ideal situation. Based on the testimonies from other worlds, there was a strong possibility they would be made to have elections and include the exiled people. The negotiators insisted there would be no interference with their culture, but they then turned around and said the humane removal of citizens had to stop if they wanted to join. His desperation caused his arguments to be more subdued, but he was concerned about what an influx of unworthy citizens would bring. Achban refused to believe the Federation planets were as benevolent as they claimed to be. How else would they have so little crime? It made no sense.

He stood straight when two servants brought in the large discus which would facilitate the call. Communication was one of the few items they allotted for energy use, so the device lit up blue as the transmission came from their switchboard operator. Within seconds, the lithe form of lady Amara flashed into view. There was a strange brown animal beside her that must have been from another world. Achban found it odd Amara would include new pets in holo calls.

"Greetings, uncle," she said in the seductive voice.

"Do not call me that," Achban growled. "Our family was rid of you long ago. Now, I suggest getting on with your message. What makes you want to call after all this time?"

The flinch in his enemy made him almost regret his tone. He steeled himself with the memories of the havoc she created on their planet only a few short years ago.

"Your Highness," she said with mock respect. "I have a proposal for you. From the darkness on your end I can see you are still in the midst of an energy crisis. Well, despite what you might think, I still care about my home world. I have been combing the universe for sources which would be both practical and compatible with our infrastructure, and I believe I have found one. In fact, it is what is running our ship right now."

Despite himself, Achban felt a glimmer of hope. "What is this source?"

"From my travels in the Federation colonies, I learned the most potent source of energy ever discovered lies within the bond between humans and beings they claim are their souls. These beings are called..."

"I am aware of what a daemon is," Achban said, anticipating what was coming next.

"Of course. Well, Dr. Alms and I have discovered a way to collect that energy and harness it."

"You mean the Dr. Alms you kidnapped from his bed in the hospital? You have forced him to do your dirty work?"

"It is not dirty work, Your Highness. It will allow us to survive without interference from the Federation."

The king shot to his feet and pointed at his antagonist. "It's you, isn't it? There was a bulletin over the Federation wire about a woman who had severed half of a human colony along with a Starfleet doctor who came to help. Do you realize what a crime you have committed? Daemons are of the highest esteem to human beings."

"The humans are fools. It was because of them I have been able to survive in the ship for months without a single refuel. There is no reason they cannot live without a daemon. If I had only been allowed to spend more time with them, I would have proved it. Look beside me. This is Bathsheba, and she belonged to the doctor you mentioned. Now she is mine."

Achban did indeed look at the creature, and noticed it was clearly different than a simple animal. "What of the human?"

"His ship took him away. Based on the Federation's knowledge of what we have done, his captain and first officer must have survived."

"Survived? You tried to have them killed? How can you expect me to agree with taking this energy source based on what you have done to obtain it? Obviously you know this is wrong."

"The only moral crime here would be to let our culture die out," Amara replied as she stroked the head of the daemon. "I know your fears about the Federation, Uncle. I share them. I can prove to you the collection of this energy will not harm humans."

"It does not matter. No human would agree to such a procedure."

"If I showed you Dr. McCoy, I'm sure you would change your mind. I have been following Federation news, and he is back at his post on the Enterprise."

Achban frowned. "Too many of the humans you severed died. I do not know how the doctor is functioning so well, but that is beside the point. I will not accept this."

Amara frowned, but then formed a devious smile. "Allow me to bring this to the people."

"No! Xarth are not butchers. They will never agree to your plans, no matter how desperate we are."

"You do realize I was not asking permission, Your Highness. I was simply giving you advice. I will fetch the doctor. I will show your subjects - including the exiled - the procedure does no harm. I will then see what they think about my proposal."

Achban was cut off by the sudden disappearance of the picture. A tightness formed in his stomach over his estranged niece's words.

His people were desperate, and many were against Federation involvement. All it would take is the right words to stir them into a frenzy. The king was not sure if his people were willing to victimize one of the dominant races of the galaxy, but he did not want to find out. As much as he wanted energy for his planet, he also knew what a daemon was to a human. He was no less willing to trifle with that as to rip out his own beating heart.

McCoy was again awoke by the sound of the fire pot crackling behind the thin divider. Spock was meditating, as he did every morning. Also, like every morning, the silent routine seemed to push McCoy out of a sound sleep.

He was again in the bed, which told him the stubborn Vulcan moved him off the floor again. The folded sheets on the floor confirmed it. There would be no convincing that damn hobgoblin to stop being a martyr, although McCoy did find it oddly endearing. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tiptoed to the dresser to get his clothes. After staying in Spock's quarters for four straight nights, and it was just tonight he had thought to bring a change of clothes.

He checked the chronometer and sighed at the ungodly hour. Sleeping in Spock's quarters had finally allowed him to not dread going off duty, but there was the added annoyance of waking up at the same time as the highly disciplined first officer. It was only one of the strange occurrences McCoy was starting to notice, such as the feeling Spock knew what he was thinking, and one too many times of predicting exactly what Spock was going to say. Not to mention the fearful looks Spock and T'Ra gave him when he caught himself slipping into dangerous thinking.

McCoy had not given much thought to the long term effects of the melds, but he was suspecting there might be some form of connection forming between him and the Vulcan. Feeling so at home in Spock's quarters - in Spock's presence - scared him. He never felt this drawn to anyone before. He tried to find out more about Vulcan telepathy from the data banks and from Dr. M'Benga, but the secrecy of Spock's people proved strong.

The doctor got ready as silently and quickly as he could before sneaking out. There was barely anyone in the hallway this time of morning, and for that he was thankful.

When he walked into Sickbay, he was met with Dr. M'Benga - Selena the ocelot daemon at his heels - before his usual arrival time pacing beside McCoy's office door.

"Hey Leonard," the other doctor said as he noticed his colleague come in. "I knew you would be early, but not this early."

"I didn't expect you to be early at all," McCoy replied. "What do you need?"

"Do you remember when you asked me about Vulcan telepathy the other day, and I said I did not know much about it?"

McCoy put on a smile. "Doc, I may be older than you, but I'm not senile yet."

"Of course," M'Benga said without mirth. He seemed to be one of the few people who did not play along with McCoy's act. "I decided to contact one of my colleagues from the Vulcan Science Academy who would be amenable to talking with me. Since you have been melding so much with Mr. Spock and have been sharing a room with him..."

"How did you know about that?" McCoy asked, blushing.

"You're not as inconspicuous as you think you are, Leonard. I honestly would not be embarrassed about it. It is understandable in your situation. However, I felt you should know how complicated your situation is, especially with more proximity to Spock."

McCoy ran his fingers through his hair and steeled himself for what was coming. He already had a feeling what his colleague was about to say.

As soon as he got off shift, McCoy went back to his own cabin for the first time in days. He went right to the liquor cabinet and pulled out the Romulan ale he kept only for special occasions. He admitted he had drank more than usual since his intercission, but never had he gotten this deep into his stash.

What M'Benga had told him was nothing he did not expect, but nonetheless made his situation more real. The only reason McCoy would have required fewer melds was because a telepathic link was forming between him and Spock, which was acting as a substitute to his link with Leauna. The link was becoming stronger the more melds they had.

What M'Benga said next was the reason he had broken out the good liquor. For Vulcans, telepathic links were very precious, and not given lightly. Any mind melds which take place involve powerful shielding to prevent any such connection. There are only two scenarios where a connection is allowed: parent-child relationships, and relationships between married couples. The first was naturally occurring, but the second was tenuous. Once a strong link was established, there was virtually no chance of another being formed, save for a broken link through death or intercission.

In other words, if McCoy allowed this link to continue, he would be preventing Spock from ever forming a deep connection with another - namely in a romantic sense. Since a large part of Vulcan mating included a mind component, he would essentially be castrating Spock, making it impossible for him to find a wife to get him through his next Pon Farr.

The third shot did not clear his thoughts, nor his guilt. McCoy could not stop ruminating during the day about his connection to Spock, and how being tied to such a heavy milestone had been affecting him. Spock had been loosening up to the point he now knew Spock cared, but not enough to have a permanent telepathic link. Spock was probably so busy playing martyr that he did not even realize what he was doing. If he did, he might insist the sacrifice was necessary.

"It's not necessary," McCoy said to the empty bottle of liquor. "I'm not worth giving up your happiness."

Knowledge of guilt and hopelessness now came to McCoy in droves. He knew he needed to tell Spock to stop the melds and sever the link, much like he had wanted to in the past. However, now the possibility turned into a necessity, and the idea of returning into the abyss made him shiver. He could not go back, but he could not continue like this.

McCoy threw the empty bottle in the recycler and stomped into the bathroom. He felt fatigue, which could be associated with depression. If there were ever a time to be depressed, it was now.

He took his shirt off to prepare for a shower. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stopped, looking on the reflected image, and thinking how he would feel if he and Spock's places were reversed.

The Vulcan may have been annoying and cold at times, but McCoy knew how attractive and appealing he was. Once Spock put his mind to it, he could have any girl he wanted. Instead, he was about to be stuck with a greying, used-up, middle aged male who had lost everything which made him human. As his humanity slipped away, so would Spock's chances at a full life. Spock might not show compassion in the same way humans did, but he still had a good heart. What would it be like for him sharing thoughts and feelings with an emotional cripple?

McCoy groaned and put his head in his hands. His instincts wanted to just continue using Spock without a care. He knew those inclinations would only get stronger with time. He had to act now while he still had an ounce of altruism. The only thing which stopped him was fear of the darkness - of the truly empty life which awaited without the melds.

"You goddamn Vulcan bastard," McCoy growled. "Why didn't you just let me die before all this? I would have been with Leauna already if you'd have just let me go!"

McCoy was stuck, and there was only one option. Before he could change his mind, he dove into his bathroom cabinet and dug out the orange bottle of sleeping pills he kept handy. He stared at the half-full bottle, and gave a genuine smile.

"I'll just go to sleep. Then you'll be free. We both will be."

The doctor was not sure who he was talking to at the time - Spock or Leauna. Either way, this was a win-win situation. Somehow, he was sure he was going to see his girl again. Even if he didn't, at least he would be out of the clutches of that space bitch.

Too bad he would not see the look on Amara's face when her new pet was taken from her.

McCoy slid to the floor and poured the contents of the bottle into his hand. There were about fifteen pills in his hand, enough to do the job if he added the alcohol into the equation. He got a pang of hesitation from deep inside, feeling he should at least see where Spock's new lead went or if there was another way to continue the melds and avoid a permanent bond. Maybe his situation would lead to new medical advances which could help people like him.

His mind soon veered into the negative, where the possibility did not happen. McCoy saw an image of Spock sitting by while he continued to leach off his life force until the Vulcan was an emaciated shell. He saw an alternative where Spock met a beautiful woman and broke off all ties, leaving him in the dark for all time. He saw a world where he killed a patient while laughing - a patient that could be Jim.

"It's better this way," he said, thinking of all that could be saved by this simple act. "I just wish you could have remembered me the way I was. It may not have been much, but it was better than this."

McCoy closed his eyes as he poured the pills into his mouth, swallowed, and waited for his living nightmare to be over.

"I'm sorry...I couldn't keep my promise," McCoy croaked, seeing the beautiful deer's face in his mind. Joanna soon joined her, which made the doctor somewhat contrite.

"It's good...you never saw me like this," McCoy said to the image. For once, he was glad of his reluctance to talk to his daughter in the months since Cerebus II.

Soon, another image joined her. An image he did not expect, despite his rumination.

"I'm sorry, Spock," he said as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I wish...I was good enough...for you."


	9. Chapter 9

Warning: Suicide themes continue with some non-con.

* * *

"He knows," T'Ra said once she and her parent walked into their warm quarters after their duty shift. Normally, they both would be in one of the laboratories overseeing various experiments, but the science department had been particularly quiet, which did not provide blessed distraction he had craved since he felt McCoy's realization.

"I am aware of this, Katra," Spock said, slumping into the chair at his desk. He was not going to bother meditating tonight. "I was unaware he was cognizant of the changes in his awareness of me."

"In other words, we were in denial...again. We hoped a bond would not form, although with our love for the doctor, such a possibility was extremely likely."

Spock nodded. "We should have told him this would happen."

"Yes, we should have, but we did not. There is no way to change what has passed. We must now focus on how we can use this link to help him regain semblance of self."

Spock closed his eyes, again visualizing the look on the doctor's face last night, as he lifted him off the floor and placed him on his bunk. It was still as haunted as it had been the night he left Cerebus II. Spock always felt love blossom anew when he allowed himself such intimate moments with McCoy. He always envisioned joining the older man and encircling him in his arms as he told him how precious he was to him. How his efforts to keep him alive were not a burden, but a privilege. Anything to keep his beauty in the mortal plane was worth it. He wanted to banish the feelings of worthlessness for him, and make him understand how he had to stay alive, had to keep hoping.

Spock always banished these desires, and readily admitted they were out of fear. He had been fearful lately that he was taking advantage of McCoy in his weakened state, and that any declarations of love might unfairly influence him. If he were to have a relationship with he doctor, there had to be equality between them. That being said, what they were doing now could not be sustained much longer. McCoy's aura was barely hanging on to life. Spock's life essence and mental energy was keeping them both afloat, but it would not be enough in the long run. The only way there could be any long term solution was through a permanent bond. This was the only way significant mental processes could be shared on a consistent basis, and McCoy's sentience could be sustained.

There was a problem: Spock knew McCoy would never consent to such a thing, particularly now when he knew what a Vulcan bond entailed. Spock knew the doctor had grown to resent the melds which were keeping him sane, almost as much as he resented the treatment by other crew members.

Thanks to the growing connection with McCoy's turbulent mind, Spock pushed himself into deep talks with both Kirk and his parents to stay grounded. Sarek was surprisingly sympathetic to his son's plight, citing how the severing of a katra was the highest of moral crimes. He shared how he retained his shields while sharing a deep bond with a human so Spock could maintain decorum. Amanda was far more concerned, and feared there might be negative psychological implications to such a connection.

"Sarek doesn't understand," she had said, clutching her lemur daemon close. "No Vulcan does. What if your own relationship with T'Ra is affected?"

It had not been thus far. In fact, it had grown stronger since Spock had admitted his feeling toward McCoy. He would not share this with his parents, though. It was not the time.

He could be far more open with Kirk, since he was the only one who knew the desires of his heart. It was becoming far more difficult to not act on emotion around McCoy, nor when searching for Amara and her coterie. Kirk was understanding, and sympathizing with him. They had leaned on each other in ways they never had before, and Spock found it much easier to maintain his composure while on duty. The downside was he was feeling less connection to his Vulcan side, the side of his he thought he had truly embraced. Now he felt all the work he put in to be the perfect Vulcan was falling to the wayside.

"It's up to you what you want to portray, Spock," Kirk had said one night as they played chess in the rec room. "I know your Vulcan self is important to you, but it's your human side that's keeping McCoy alive."

Spock had agreed, but was starting to realize Leonard was now more precious to him than his Vulcan side. He would give it all up to keep this man alive and happy. The thought scared him more than any other emotional revelation he had recently. It scared him so much he could not speak it aloud, even to Jim.

As Spock excogitated, he started to feel a tug on the shields between himself and McCoy. It was familiar - usually when McCoy was in despair he unconsciously sought the closest bond he could find - but somehow different. Spock tentatively eased toward McCoy's consciousness to gauge how the doctor was feeling right now, and if Spock needed to give him some extra energy through their weak bond.

The Vulcan sensed the other man was in his cabin, which caused disappointment. The past few days where McCoy shared his quarters had been enjoyable, but Spock had been afraid the fear within the doctor would get the best of the arrangement.

"We have to get to him!" T'Ra shouted, flying to his shoulder. Spock was confused, but once his daemon's readings reached his mind, the same alarm coursed through him.

McCoy was dying.

Not caring about decorum, Spock walked into the corridor as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. Once he reached his destination, he thanked anyone listening that the door was not locked.

"Doctor?" he shouted, frantically scanning the quarters. The bathroom door was wide open, revealing the shirtless doctor sitting against the wall with an empty orange bottle lying by his side.

"Leonard!" Spock shouted, running to his side. The Vulcan slapped McCoy's face trying to get him to open his eyes, while T'Ra flew to retrieve the emergency poison kit from one of the med packs stored in a sealed cabinet. She used her talons to punch in the override, shaking the whole time.

Spock let out a sigh of relief when he heard the doctor groan and felt his weak breath against his face. He was hanging on, but barely.

"Should we call sickbay?" T'Ra asked, as she dropped the kit at Spock's side.

"Not unless we must," Spock said as he took a deep breath and pulled out the ipecac hypo. "A suicide attempt will only confirm what Starfleet fears. He will be transferred where we cannot give him any help."

"But maybe it is what he needs. Have our melds truly improved anything?"

Spock ignored the question and pushed the hypo into the doctor's arm. He dragged the limp body to the toilet bowl, and after a beat, McCoy started to empty his stomach. Spock sighed with relief when he saw solid remnants of the sleeping pills in the bile, thankful the digestion had not be too far along. T'Ra handed him the stimulant hypo which he quickly administered. This would keep the doctor from slipping into a coma. He then gave a detox hypo, so any unwanted poison could be sweated out.

McCoy continued to vomit for about five minutes, and each time, more pill fragments appeared. T'Ra retrieved a hand towel and ran water in the sink. Spock then reached to take the cloth and wet it. He dabbed McCoy's forehead and wiped away the automatic tears as he continued to purge.

"He did not seem to think this through," T'Ra whispered. "Thankfully."

"It is not Leonard's nature to want to take his own life," Spock said just as softly.

When Spock was convinced McCoy was finished, he carefully maneuvered the older man backward so he was sitting against the wall again. T'Ra flew from the sink to his side, the air from her wings pushing the empty medicine bottle into the empty space underneath the vanity.

"Doctor," Spock shouted as he shook the man in question. He tried to suppress the anger which had replaced his fear, although what he was angry at was a mystery to him.

/After what we have been doing to keep him alive, he was close to throwing it all away/ T'Ra clarified. /He preferred to die than be bonded with us./

Spock felt a heavy weight in his stomach. He realized for the first time he had been somewhat dismissive of Leonard's feelings during this time. While he did not want to obligate McCoy to return his love, both he and Jim had been pushing him into a half life he might not have wanted. For what reason? For his own good? For their own good? Spock had never cursed his recent emotional slip as much as he had now. He should have looked at the problem from all angles and not for his own selfish motives.

/If you truly want to be logical right now, the only solution is to not assume our actions are to blame/ T'Ra told her parent.

The silent conversation was stopped when McCoy began to stir and open his eyes. They would find out soon enough if their fears were valid.

/So there is life after death/ McCoy thought to himself as he woke. /Why does it smell like puke?/

When his muddled brain began to clear, and the familiar baritone voice frantically said his title while shaking him, he realized he had been unsuccessful.

/Goddamn Vulcan/ McCoy internally growled. /I didn't think about the fucking link. Damn it all to hell./

"G'tuff!" shouted McCoy as he weakly pushed Spock away from him. It was barely enough to push an office chair, but the Vulcan took the hint and backed off. He spotted the discarded hypos on the floor and took stock of his body. The queasiness from the ipecac still lingered, and the stimulant was just starting to sharpen his senses. Spock had done everything he would have done if their situations were reversed. Damn him.

He was still in the hell that was his life. Leauna was in alien arms. He was half a man. Barely human. A hair's breadth away from tying an able-bodied male to his decaying carcass forevermore. Did Spock not know what he was doing to himself? To the man he thought he was helping? Did his blind devotion to vast moral principles cloud his judgment that much?

"Doctor," Spock said. He looked lost, as if he were unsure of what to say. "Are you...?"

"I just tried to fucking kill myself, Spock!" McCoy shouted, his anger enhanced by the stimulant. It was nice to feel something so deeply, although it felt basal and uncomplicated. "No, I'm not fucking okay! I would have been fucking okay if you had just let me die!"

Spock flinched as if he had been stung. T'Ra mirrored the action. McCoy felt a sick satisfaction in the unemotional Vulcan's plight, because he finally felt like he was being honest. No more masks or pretending to keep his friends happy. He had had enough.

"Why?" The Vulcan asked, sounding unbelievably small and frightened. Spock was in uncharted territory, but McCoy could not conjure up any sympathy. In fact, a genuine grin spread across his face for the first time in months.

"Well, I guess it takes me swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills for the Enterprise's walking computer to show he's not invincible."

A shadow of anger appeared in Spock's face. "Do not..."

"Do not what, Spock? Do not tell you how fucking miserable I am? You're not blind. You see it. Jim sees it. Yet you keep insisting that its all gonna be okay. Well, it's not. I've accepted it. I'm finished. I have no daemon. I'm not human anymore. I'm a washed up, old hick who's lost everything that made him somebody. I can't be a doctor. I can't be a friend. I sure as hell can't be a lover. Even if I do get Leauna back, will she even recognize me? Will she want my sick self back? She might prefer to stay with that Amara woman."

"Leonard," T'Ra trembled.

McCoy barely heard her. "It's not like I was much to begin with. Just an old country doctor, I always said. A country doctor who never had time for his daughter until it was too late, and took his wife for granted until she walked out only leaving a note behind. Do you know what the last straw was for her, Spock? The last straw was when I killed my own father. That's right. He was dying, and I administered a lethal dose of pain killers. I lost my medical license for two years, and you know what? A cure for my dad's disease was found three weeks later. Don't that beat all? My wife was so disgusted, she picked up my only daughter and left me to stew. Hell of a price to pay for a playing God."

McCoy's shouting was shaking the walls by now, yet Spock had regained a measure of control. But the doctor knew the Vulcan well enough to know when he was affected. McCoy knew what would truly hurt. He started crawling toward the other man.

"Is this what you want, Spock? Is this what you want to be bonded to for all eternity?"

"Leonard," Spock pleaded, trying to distance himself for the advancing McCoy. Before he could pull himself to his feet, McCoy tackled, pinning Spock to the floor. Vulcan strength could have easily shoved him off. The lack of resistance made McCoy even more elated.

"C'mon, Spock. Look me in the eye and tell me this is the face you want to stare at forever."

McCoy could feel the heat of Spock's groin against his own as he tightened the grip on his warms wrists. A tingling in his own groin welcomed a new surge of feeling, although he could not identify it. Spock's continued silence was enough to turn that feeling into anger, which manifested itself in an aggressive thrust against the man underneath.

"Doctor," T'Ra shouted, flapping her wings."Stop!"

The doctor ignored her, his eyes focused on the alien face beneath him. Spock was breathing heavily, his bottom lip trembling.

"You sure you want this?" said McCoy in a guttural growl. He continued to thrust as both their cocks started swelling. "Are you sure this is what you want? Forever?"

Spock was clearly fighting to maintain composure, but his erect penis gave him away. McCoy did not know if this confirmed or denied whatever he was trying to prove, and frankly he did not care. He wanted Spock to suffer. He wanted the Vulcan to understand, so maybe he would be let go.

McCoy started breathing hard as his thrusts became more frantic. "Answer me, you green-blooded hobgoblin! Is this what you want?"

The doctor was stopped short when he was quickly flipped on his back. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the cold, tile floor, and found the dark eyes of Spock staring down at him. For a second, McCoy feared he had awakened the wild warrior within, but when T'Ra perched on Spock's shoulder and gave a similar look, he knew the Spock he was looking at was completely human.

"More. Than. Anything," Spock said in barely a whisper.

The heavy passion immediately drained from McCoy as he focused on the faces before him. The light in the bathroom reflected off the Vulcan's cheek, and he finally realized the were tears on Spock's face. He had driven the seemingly impenetrable man to tears...and enjoyed it.

McCoy realized he did not know what would come out of his actions. He still felt justified, but the satisfaction at having broken his tormentor had not come. If anything, it was causing more turmoil within. He no longer felt like a succubus. He had now given, but instead of kindness he gave pain. Worse, he had apparently used Spock's hidden feelings against him before he even knew they existed. Spock wanted to be with him more than anything. Spock wanted to be with him. Spock wanted him. Judging from the look in the Vulcan's eyes, these facts had not changed with McCoy's misery.

Within the pit of his stomach, McCoy felt emotions awake from a long stasis. They festered and started to spread throughout his bloodstream, fighting against the irrational anger and despair. The doctor felt his lip tremble, and wetness brim in the corners of his eyes. He knew what this was. Contrition, but not the kind he had been ruminating on for weeks. Then he had been mourning for what had been. Now, he was sorry. Really, truly sorry...because he had hurt someone he loved.

Spock had moved off him by now and was sitting up. McCoy barely felt the strong arms lift him and take him out of the bathroom. It was only when his body touched the soft bed did he realize what the Vulcan had done, and what tenderness it took to do such a thing. It was enough to push McCoy over the edge. He turned his face into the pillow and sobbed.

McCoy had not cried like this in years, and had not released emotion in any way in months. His wails seemed to unleash every feeling which had been castrated up until this moment. He missed Leauna. He missed goading Spock. He missed caring for his patients. He missed the thrill of being alive in a time he could traverse the galaxy. He missed his daughter. He even missed his ex-wife. He missed his father. He wanted his life back. For the first time, he was grieving for what he had lost, both in the past and the present. The crushing weight of it all had finally driven him to this point. The only comfort he took was that he at last felt human again.

Before he realized it, his head was in a lap, specifically Spock's. Long fingers slid through his hair and lightly stroked his scalp. He wanted so badly to refuse the loving touch he did not deserve, but the comfort was unmistakable.

It felt like hours before McCoy calmed down enough to open his eyes and clear his throat. Although he had performed traction on the worst of his emotions, the same regret and dejection still existed. McCoy did not know what had happened to him when Spock saved his life. What he did know was that all he had experienced in the past months had felt like he was on the outside looking into another man's life. Now, he was right in the middle of it. At the time, he did not think there was anything worse than what he was going through. He was wrong.

"Leonard," Spock said, returning to formal language. "Please tell me what you are thinking."

McCoy croaked, "You don't want to know."

"Your presumption is incorrect," Spock said without hesitation.

"Do not hide yourself from us, Leonard," T'Ra added.

"I wish I were dead," the doctor said in a congested voice. "Granted, for different reasons than before."

Spock gently took McCoy by the shoulders and leaned him against the headboard. The Vulcan then sat cross-legged directly across from him and looked him in the eye. McCoy had never seen his friend in such a position, showing such raw "mother hen" tendencies. The switch into his human mode was not undoing itself anytime soon.

"Talk to me, Leonard. Please."

"Don't you already know?"

"As you have surmised, Leonard, we have a weak telepathic link due to frequent mind melds. We do not, however, have a bond, nor do we ever breach your privacy. While T'Ra and I are attuned to you, we do not violate your mind."

McCoy gave a small smile. "I guess I should have thought better of you, huh?"

"It would have been illogical to believe I would be deceitful now after years of showing honest behavior, but I understand your trepidation."

"It's funny how your talking about logic right after you ask me how I feel."

Spock did not flinch. "If I had not intervened, you would have died at your own hand. I want to help you, and traditionally, such acts are emotional in nature. Besides, it would be foolish to pretend my feelings toward you remain a secret."

The ensuing lump in McCoy's throat made him fear he would break down again. "Why?"

"Please clarify."

"Why do you have any...feelings toward me?"

Spock averted his eyes and was silent.

"I mean, why would you want to be with me? I'm not much to look at, or to talk to. I'm also..." McCoy braced himself. He had prevented himself from saying certain things out loud. "I'm only half a man, Spock. That's what I am now. I'm no longer...whole. I don't have anything to offer you except...pain. I tried to..." McCoy's voice caught. "I practically raped you. I didn't even think myself capable of that before, but..."

"You were angry."

"Don't try to justify it, you damn fool Vulcan! What I did to you...aw hell!" McCoy again was starting to cry. He covered his face and fought to stay together.

"Why did you not talk to me, or to Jim? Why did you let this go so far?"

"Jim still feels guilty about letting me lose Leauna, and you would have been the martyr like you always were! You would have just tried to keep this...whatever going because you felt some vague feeling for me no matter how much it hurt you. I was not going to drag you down with me. You deserve to be happy - or whatever the Vulcan equivalent is. I meant what I said in there, Spock. You don't deserve me."

Spock gulped. It was something McCoy was not used to seeing, neither was T'Ra hopping in the Vulcan's lap and making it clear they were having a silent conversation between them. Usually they kept their relationship under wraps, although it was intimate moments like this which reminded the doctor of the closeness they shared. It only caused the ache of loss to deepen within him.

"Leonard," Spock said once T'Ra flew to his shoulder. He appeared nervous, and McCoy could not help but steel himself for whatever was coming next. "You're wrong."

He did not expect the expected. "Well, shoot Spock. You've convinced me. Life's worth living after all. Lets go hold hands and skip..."

"Quiet," said Spock with his usual subtle strength. "I do not know how to tell you what I am feeling, and what I am willing to offer you," Spock continued. "The only way I can make you understand is to show you."

McCoy furrowed his brow as Spock's hand came toward him with fingers spread in the all-too-familiar position. The doctor automatically out his hand up to stop him.

"This is not like our normal melds, Leonard."

"What kind of meld is it like?"

"It is difficult to explain."

McCoy sighed. "Why is everything so damn difficult to explain with you? I'm done having you do this for me."

Spock squared his jaw. He hesitated before putting his outstretched hand on McCoy's shoulder. The touch was light at first, then he let gravity take over and made it the comforting gesture it was supposed to be.

"If you want this to be the last meld, I will honor that wish. But please allow this one."

The doctor could sense the pain and uncertainty in Spock's voice. If the Vulcan did keep his word, it would clearly be the hardest thing he ever had to do. McCoy was again caught between a rock and a hard place. It seemed like whatever he did would cause some sort of issue.

"Fine," McCoy said as he picked up the slender hand and placed it on his face. His reasoning was to get whatever Spock wanted over with, but he could not help but press the palm to his cheek longer than was normal decorum. The touch felt familiar, like it had been the one spot of light in a dark abyss.

Before McCoy could contemplate the feeling, he was pulled into Spock's expansive mind. Unlike previous excursions, there was the equivalent of a "left turn" as opposed to a right, and he was brought to a new place he had never been. His mind did not create a physical equivalent. All McCoy's ocular nerves sensed were bright colors, swirling about like a gathering storm. The beauty was palpable, but the turbulence was frightening, as if a twister or worse would come at a moment's notice.

/These are my emotions, Leonard/ he heard Spock say. /If I were pure Vulcan, this would be a far more perilous place. Vulcan emotions are volatile things./

/I can see that,/ McCoy replied. He then felt like he was on the back of another being, as if he were being guided though the storm.

/Do not fear, Leonard. It is T'Ra./ The being said.

/I figured. I feel a bit like I'm riding on one of those eagles from The Hobbit./

The journey was nearly instantaneous, and immediately McCoy was hit with a feeling so strong, he wanted to mentally run in the other direction. Before he could, the hit became an embrace, one which enveloped his entire being - both inside and out. He felt warm, and comfortable, just like he had as a boy while sitting in his mothers lap by the fireplace as the Appalachian mountain snows fell outside.

McCoy let himself go, allowing the feeling to completely take him. The warmth soon made way for a sight he had thought long dead - light. The light of the soul. The light which made sentience not just a capacity for independence, but a sacred state. An image appeared of McCoy attempting to cover the gaping hole in his chest, and even going so far as to place straw and discarded paper inside to not feel so hollow. The light offered something to give true substance to his emptiness. The refuse dissolved and was replaced by pure human spirit.

The endless ocean of feeling had now taken him in, and the doctor now found himself swimming in an endless expanse calmer than a lake on a hot summer day. He drank in the sensation, not even knowing how thirsty he had been for it. This place...it was vast and alien, but somehow he knew it better than anyplace he had ever been. He did not know how he deserved to enter such a place, but he never wanted to leave.

/Leonard/ said the familiar voice who held this sea within him. Echoing in the background was the voice of his soul, speaking in sync with the mind. The name contained confirmations and questions, which McCoy was all too happy to answer.

/I'm afraid my side is still being remodeled,/ was all McCoy could say, feeling the casual words poisoned the purity of this place. Sarcasm, or even mentions of the world outside - or the equivalent world inside his own mind - were not welcome here. This place was where McCoy had found the love of a Vulcan, and it was like no love he had ever seen or felt before.

McCoy spent an eternity floating in ethereal bliss before he felt himself being gently pulled out.

/No,/ he pleaded, trying to pull himself back. It was no use. Nothing this perfect could last forever. When McCoy's eyes opened and saw the ceiling of his quarters. He almost felt he had just left his true reality, although he quickly acclimated himself back to the physical plane. He was lying down again, sweating profusely with a heavy weight in his groin. His hand touched his face, the faint psychic imprint of his beloved's hand still in place.

Beloved.

Never in all his life did he imagine using this word again, particularly in reference to a male of another species who always seemed to have the opposite opinion of him. Yet, it felt right. More than right.

Spock loved him beyond anything he could have imagined - in a way he thought only existed in fairy tales. What was once a vague realization was tangible and real. The strength of it was scary, but reassuring. The idea filled him with such happiness, but not as much as the assurance the affections were returned. McCoy could not explain why he knew this - especially since he was just getting reacquainted with emotions he thought dead - but it gave him renewed hope. There was now a chance he could give rather than constantly taking.

Sharp pricks on his stomach startled him out of his thoughts and into a sitting position. The shock turned to fear as he saw the silver bird form of Spock's soul standing on him. Beyond T'Ra's crest was Spock's face, his body sitting at the edge of the bed. His eyes asked the silent question McCoy could not answer in the meld.

The doctor looked back to the daemon, his hands shaking as he propped himself on his elbows. The last daemon he had touched other than Leauna was Jocelyn's red ermine. Before that he had allowed no one to come close. This was as deep an intimacy as humans could ever share on their own. Although he had desired to have such a thing again, the idea still frightened him, especially with the recent memory of Leauna being violated so frequently. During a meld, he could be a pedestrian due to his tattered mind. In this case, he had to participate, or it would be a simple yet grave violation of privacy on the other's part.

McCoy looked on T'Ra's face, truly examining it for the first time. Her large black eyes had a sheen of brown, and had an inexplicable expressivity. Her imposing grey beak was slightly open, as if preparing to speak. Her shining silver feathers reflected the low light of the room as brightly as Luna reflected Sol. McCoy only now realized how much he had wanted to touch those feathers. He had imagined what texture they would have or how thick they would be if he ran his fingers through them. For the first time in a night full of revelations, McCoy recognized that the feelings for his Vulcan friend were not new. He could have been hiding this from himself for years.

He allowed the past and present curiosity to propel his hand forward, and love to bring him the remaining centimeters. McCoy expected stiffness in the feathers, like tinsel, but instead found inviting warm softness. T'Ra let out a cooing sound as she closed her eyes and leaned into McCoy's touch.

"Your hands," she said barely above a whisper. "They are...like I always dreamed."

This put McCoy over the edge, he pulled the daemon close and surrounded her in an embrace. He placed multiple kisses along her crest and down her back, burying his face her velvety plumule. Every fiber touching his skin brought the pure warmth from Spock's mind. Although daemons were naturally warm, T'Ra was in a class by herself. Her temperature made up for McCoy's partial nakedness, and then some. Her talons were awkwardly trying to find a place to latch on, desperate to increase the contact. He felt the resulting scratches vividly, as well as the pinches from an exploring beak on his neck. The doctor could not bring himself to care.

McCoy's eyes had been closed due to savoring the sensation of another's soul in his arms, but he soon heard a strange sound was coming from the end of the bed. In his frenzy, he had forgotten about Spock's physical half. Without Leauna, McCoy had no ability to allow his partner to share in such a deep exploration, and the idea filled him with grief once again. The feeling became deeper when he looked up to see the terrifying sight of Spock bent over and sobbing into his hands.


	10. Chapter 10

Ever since passing into the Neutral Zone between Federation space and the Romulan Empire, Amara's sense of excitement turned into trepidation. Bathsheba could not help but share in this, since this association had been so important to her friend.

"I believe it is time to uncloak," Amara said to her helmsman. "But first, send a message to our friend Commander Chavek Liorae-sihaer. Tell him Lady Amara has succeeded."

"Yes, m'lady," said the man at the communications console. Amara strode to his side, watching as he relayed a message in the Romulan language. Within minutes, a reply came in the form of a live vid call.

"Bring him up on the screen," Amara said with a smile.

The image on the screen was of a slight Romulan man clothed in military robes. The room he was in appeared small, signaling he was alone and hidden.

"Jolan Tru, Commander," Amara said with a bow.

"Greetings Lady Amara," said the Romulan. "I apologize for my generic greeting, but I am still unfamiliar with Xarth customs."

"I hope to teach you once we begin our collaboration."

"So, you have successfully used the human-daemon bond to create energy," Chavek said with a hint of a smile. "At least, this is my assumption. I did not expect you to return to the Neutral Zone empty handed, especially since you carry one of our cloaking devices."

Amara smiled as she bent down to stroke her Bathsheba on the head. "Indeed, our ship is running on pure energy from the bond, and had been for two and a half months."

"Two and a half months? How many humans?"

"Sixteen, Commander. And there is at least two months worth of energy left if we remain cloaked."

The smirk became a grin on Chavek's face. "Along with your unique gifts, this could certainly turn the tide in our favor."

"Remember, this is also for my people, Commander. They are the first who will receive this technology. I first must retrieve this daemon's human in order to convince them the procedure is safe."

Chavek leaned forward in his seat to get a closer look at Amara. "Do you mean the Earth creature beside you is a daemon?"

Amara opened her mouth to speak, but thought the better of it.

"Yes," Bathsheba said in her stead. "I once belonged to a human called Leonard McCoy."

"Leonard McCoy? Of the Enterprise?"

"Of course," Bathsheba replied. "But that is in the past now. I have found a new life aboard this ship, and am more than willing to help both you and Amara get what you need."

"This is an intriguing development," Chavek said, sitting back in his chair. "The Enterprise is...not a well liked ship among many in the Empire."

"I remember," Bathsheba said, although such memories were vague.

"Your help in achieving this has been immense, and our agreement will be honored," said Amara, giving one last squeeze to her daemon. "With your help, we will take Xarth and make it a Romulan commonwealth. We will then use my planet as a place to research the daemon and what other ways we can use it. Think of what new possibilities could be unlocked for your Empire with this technology."

"It will certainly open up new possibilities for our human slaves, and the are many Romulans who would be interested in having daemons for themselves. This will cause heightened tensions with the Federation, but this is not a concern with me."

"Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Commander. I first want to obtain the human Leonard McCoy. He must convince my people to join us."

For the first time, Chavek had the ghost of a sneer. "I will help you get Leonard McCoy, as long as I get Captain James Kirk and his Vulcan First Officer."

"Get them?"

"I want to do the same to them as you did to their doctor. I want their daemons, and their energy. My people's elation at this new opportunity will only be heightened if the Federation's most beloved pair are shown as the linchpins."

"I am glad you are satisfied," said Amara. "And before I forget, I have a gift for you which should be helpful in your goal."

Amara turned just as Dr. Weinburg entered the bridge from the back, silently carrying a long stiff bundle wrapped in torn silk. Amara reverently took the item and allowed the silk to fall to the ground. The held a sword with a dingy purple blade, and a bronze handle. She held the sword before her using both hands so the Commander could see it clearly.

"Why do you present me with such a primitive weapon? What use have I for that?"

"This 'primitive weapon' has an Oolomite blade," said Amara. "Oolomite is an earth mineral which is quite valuable on the black market as a basis for decorative items. However, it is also the only known element which can cut the human-daemon bond."

Chavek appeared as elated as his subdued Romulan heritage allowed. "I could use that sword to separate a man from his daemon in battle?"

"With your own two hands. We have a device which makes a cut and collects the energy, so if you would like to utilize the resources..."

"Believe me, Amara," Chavek interrupted. "I will have use for this sword. You have given a...thoughtful gift."

"We also have a drug which eases the shock of separation so the human life is preserved. If you want to parade the daemons as you say, I would not use this gift impulsively."

"I never do so with my weapons," the commander replied. "To do so is dishonorable, and does not make for good revenge."

Amara gave the gift back to Dr. Weinburg, and walked to the screen so she was only inches from the Romulan's face.

"Our first objective is to get Leonard McCoy and the Enterprise," Amara said. "I will take care of where this will take place. I take it your leadership still is unaware of your conversations with me."

"You are correct. It is better this way. The help my men offer will be that of a group of rogues. This way, we will avoid war if this does not go well."

"I take it Romulus is unprepared for such a possibility."

"We are always prepared, but this new energy source will take time to bring to it's full potential. Prolonged peacetime will be needed to do this."

"How will you take two senior officers of the Enterprise without sacrificing such peacetime?"

"This is what you and I will figure out, Lady Amara, when you come to my home tomorrow night."

Amara lifted her eyebrows. She had never entered a Romulan homestead before. This would be yet another new experience among many. "That would be satisfactory, Commander. This ship does get cramped after a while."

"It does appear to be quite small," Chavek said with a smile. "I will send you the coordinates to travel to, but make sure you remain cloaked."

"Of course. Jolan Tru, Commander."

"Jolan Tru, Lady Amara. I look forward to a long and productive collaboration."

/Holy shit. I broke Spock./

McCoy was inwardly frantic, unsure what to do. As a doctor, he had seen his fair share of crying, but never from a Vulcan and certainly never from Spock. Was he supposed to comfort him, or would that be embarrassing?

/Don't cry, beloved./ McCoy thought, willing the message toward his friend. /Please, tell me what's wrong./

"We are overwhelmed," came the voice of T'Ra. She still rested in McCoy's lap, with the doctor's hands placed around her protectively. "This is the first time I have been touched by another in this way."

"Oh...I'm..." McCoy immediately separated himself from her, redness crawling up his neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

T'Ra responded by jumping back into his lap and nuzzling his chest. "Do not be sorry. This is not a thing you did wrong. It is simply difficult to process the emotions you have awakened."

"Awakened? What about what I saw in your mind? That seemed pretty awake to me."

"We had only reached a single area of emotion within. You did not see the complex controls which keep them from overflowing. The circumstances over these past months have weakened our discipline considerably. The intimate act we have shared finished he process."

McCoy now felt like pond scum. He should have taken it slower so Spock was not thrust into such a tidal wave of feeling and would not be suffering what, to him, was the ultimate indignity.

"You have not been near a daemon in a long time. Your response was..."

"Dammit, will you stop doing that!" McCoy shouted. "I'm not used to this telepathy stuff, and you really need to stop justifying my actions."

"It was not only your actions Leonard," said T'Ra as she touched her beak to one of the scratches on McCoy's chest. "If you recall, I initiated the contact. This encounter had given...immense pleasure. We were simply not prepared for it to be so overwhelming."

McCoy sighed, knowing he was beat. "I'm sure I'd be doing the same if Leauna were still here."

"Emotions run far deeper in Vulcans."

McCoy smiled at the Vulcan version of "I doubt it."

"Well, I never thought I would see the day when I hear you admitting to an impulsive act."

The daemon stayed silent and placed her head against McCoy's chest. In turn, he stroked her feathers gently. Even that simple act caused Spock's outburst to get worse. He bent forward, clutching his stomach, no longer hiding his face. McCoy felt the fear drain as soon as the pained face was revealed.

"I think it's time to go backwards a bit," McCoy said as he kindly pushed T'Ra away from him. Separating himself completely from the silver bird pained him more than he thought it would. He had missed the feel of a daemon on his skin. One uniquely human sensation he found almost impossible to describe to other species was what a daemon felt like.

McCoy reminded himself that despite her attempts at affection, this daemon was not his to touch. He smiled at her and said, "It will be much easier to do this the old fashioned way, like a Southern gentleman should."

McCoy slid off the bed and knelt before Spock. There was still trepidation, but since contact had broke with his daemon, the Vulcan was regaining composure. McCoy knew this would be welcome for Spock, but it might also close a door if shame caused him to withdraw. With all the feelings surging within McCoy right now, this was an unacceptable option.

In his quest to start slow, he placed both hands on Spock's knees, lightly at first, then with more pressure. McCoy slid his thumbs back and forth, feeling the solid warmth and power housed in these legs. He slowly moved his hands up Spock's thighs, until he was mere centimeters from the Vulcan's manhood, whose hardness was obvious through the black pants.

The sight made McCoy's own cock respond in kind, but he restrained himself. He was doing this the old fashioned way after all, and it was uncouth for a man to jump so hard so fast. McCoy thought back to the moments he spent immersed in Spock's love for him, and knew immediately this was not a moment to be taken lightly. This was to be savored and nurtured. He had already pounced headlong into intimate contact with Spock's soul. He would not do the same with his body.

McCoy shifted his hands toward the Vulcan hips, and moved his face close enough to catch the unique scent of the other body. There was a hint of sweet spice - like cinnamon but not - and sage brush. There was a coppery tint to it as well. Again, McCoy was wondering how he could not have seen how beautiful he found Spock, both inside and out. If he had acted on this before Cerebus II, who knows how much pain and uncertainty could have been avoided.

"Do not think on what might have been," the congested voice of Spock said, startling the doctor. Spock reached to hold McCoy's face, but the similarity to melds must have stopped him so he opted for shoulders instead.

"It's hard not to. I mean, humans were obviously having sex long before daemons showed up, but it's become so much more since then. What if I can't give you what you need?"

"All I need is you, Leonard. Any part of you, man or soul. You have been worried about reciprocating what I have given. You being here - alive and well - is all I need. All else is supplementary."

Now it was McCoy's turn to feel overwhelmed. No one, not even Jocelyn, had said something like this to him. He was sure that if he had lost Leauna while he was still married, Joss would have acted like a widow. She would have reenforced his belief he was as good as dead. He took a shaky breath and tried to pull himself together. They had wasted enough time blubbering like virgin brides.

The idea of taking it slow was now far less appealing. McCoy's first instinct was to kiss Spock full on the mouth, but it was only right to bend in deference to his partner's cultural needs. Spock had made it clear he loved all parts of Leonard, together and separate. McCoy wanted to show, despite the insults and arguments in their past, that he felt the same about the Vulcan and human warring within the other man. He extended his index and middle finger and touched them the hand on his left shoulder. He digit tightened and he almost saw the shudder go through the Vulcan body.

"I want you, Spock," McCoy whispered. He eased his way up and appeased Spock's human half with a chaste kiss to the lips. "Each and every part."

Spock put his hand around McCoy's head and pushed their lips together once more. The kiss deepened, their tongues and lips clamoring for contact. T'Ra moved closer to the pair, and both spared a hand to thread through her feathers. The touch caused a surge through Spock as he threw his arms around McCoy and pulled him down so they were both lying on the bed with the doctor on top. Their lips were still connected, tongues entwined, and their position made their mutual arousal all the more obvious. McCoy figured it would be equally unbecoming of a Southern gentleman to leave one he loved in such a state for very long, so he reached to unzip Spock's pants and repositioned his briefs so the erect penis could spring free.

Spock did the same with McCoy's cock and they started a mutual rhythm with their hands. As the pressure built, the kisses stopped as they savored the sensation of their reciprocal touches and looked into each others eyes. McCoy used his free arm to support his body, while Spock's was free to grip his neck. They both came within nanoseconds of each other, spilling their seed on their clothes and hands.

At long last, McCoy felt whole.

Spock could not sleep, nor did he expect himself to. While his emotions no longer overwhelmed him like they had only a half hour ago, they were still the first thing on his mind.

McCoy was cuddled up to his side with his arms wrapped around his torso. The soft snoring told Spock the other man was asleep, and his shields were effective. Spock's arms circled around the McCoy, the fingers of one hand interlaced in soft, greying hair. Both were wearing nightshirts from McCoy's wardrobe after both of their clothes were ruined by the dual hand job. It was a mutual decision since Spock would have been chilly in the human's room, and McCoy wanted to "show solidarity."

/Imagine,/ T'Ra said. /Only a few hours ago, this was impossible./

Spock averted his eyes upward to look toward his daemon who was perched on the shelf above the bed. She had been between them until she started to get crushed by their closeness.

He was not one to dwell on how quickly life changed, but in this case, he could not help but join T'Ra's wonder. Every time he let himself fall into his joy, though, his practical self pulled back and made him consider the ramifications.

/He still might not love me,/ Spock said.

/Or he might. There is no way of knowing./

/We might not have a true bond yet, but for all intents and purposes, I am acting as his daemon. My feelings could be yielding a great influence over him./

/And yet we chose to share them./

/There was no other choice. He wanted to kill himself. He needed to know a bond with him would not be out of pity./

/There were at least 26 other ways we could have shared such a fact./

/But far fewer would have been accepted as truth./

/Either way, we still have not proposed the permanent joining of our minds./

/But he will accept. I know he will, which is my concern. Leonard might have regained much of his faculties, but he is still vulnerable. He will gravitate toward me because I am filling the void Leauna left behind. His aversion to mind melds would have made the possibility distasteful were he at full capacity./

/Jim has tried to tell us this multiple times, and his logic is sound. Leonard is a man who keeps his emotions to himself and uses gruffness and sarcasm to hide his deeper feelings. Based on what we have seen within him, he could have easily felt for us before./

/Your own conclusions are not based on solid data either. Leonard's mind has been altered due to his experience. Much like a broken bone can heal crooked if set incorrectly, so the mind can be warped if given the chance./

/And you think the way we are healing his mind will cause it to heal crooked?/

/If it has not already done so./

/So what do you propose to do about this possibility? Eliminate the link? Stop the melds? End this relationship before it starts? All of these will no doubt destroy Leonard./

/I know, but I cannot risk entering into a romantic liaison when the other party is not willing. This would not be fair to him. It would be akin to rape./

/That is extreme./

/Is it?/

T'Ra was silent for a beat before saying, /Spock, we are happy./

Spock drew a shaky breath. /Yes./

/Is it not true we have always pushed back against happiness because to be in such a state would not become a Vulcan?/

/This entire situation has happened because feelings clouded my judgment. Vulcans are not to seek happiness because.../

/...seeking such pursuits is akin to chasing ghosts. At least, that is how the humans would say it. True happiness is not possible, and if temporarily attained, clouds logic in an unseemly manner. This is true, but we are not chasing ghosts. We are chasing a living, breathing man who is in real pain and is seeking us out for relief. Wherever his attraction to us comes from is irrelevant. Most sentient beings are not drawn to partners through 'pure' motives anyway. We know he will not bring us happiness. There will be painful days ahead, but we are the only ones who can help him through this, both on this ship, or off. It is only logical for this relationship to continue./

Spock pondered his daemon's words. /Your logic is sound./

/Now, do not talk to me like I am Father. We both know the truth. I am simply not going to let your doubts stand in the way of what must be done./

/Are they not your doubts, too?/

/I have no doubts right now. This is right. All we have desired has come to fruition, and nothing has told me our desires were unmerited./

McCoy started moving underneath Spock. He realized his shields had slipped in the past minute. It should not have been enough for McCoy to hear their conversation, but the noise would have still been hard to sleep through. Once he clamped them down again, he saw Leonard was already awake. The older man started stroking his chest while nuzzling his head against his side.

"Penny for your thoughts?" McCoy said.

"I do not see why I would accept arcane copper money to share share thoughts with you Leonard."

McCoy chuckled. "I always love when you do that."

"I always assumed you were perturbed by it."

"It wouldn't have been any fun if I hadn't given you a hard time about it." McCoy took Spock's hand in his and kissed his palm, letting warmth flow through the Vulcan. Not for the first time, Spock wondered why he had any doubts at all.

"I am simply...pondering whether or not to ask you something."

"Ask away," McCoy said between kisses.

Spock continued to enjoy the doctor's ministrations, but forced himself back to the task at hand. He knew despite what had happened, McCoy still did not have a firm grip on his humanity. Despite all they had shared, he would still go back to his pure severed state if another rejuvenation meld was not performed, and Spock had begun to feel his energy wane.

"Leonard," Spock began. "I will not be able to meld with you much longer without posing...risk to both of us."

The kisses stopped. Spock could feel McCoy's eyes on him.

"I knew it was killing you," the doctor said in a downtrodden voice.

"It is not killing me yet, but it might sometime soon. I do have another proposal."

"Does it involve another one of your Vulcan secrets?"

Spock sighed. "No, Leonard. What I am asking is a well known practice."

"Will it hurt you?"

"No. In fact, it would give me great joy. However, before tonight, I was not sure you would agree."

The was a pause between them. "You want to bond with me, don't you? You want to have a...Vulcan marriage."

Spock could not discern the tone in McCoy's voice. There was definitely surprise, but whether he heard joy or disdain was a mystery. He purposefully blocked himself from reading anything from McCoy and asked T'Ra to do the same. Such insights would have been helpful, but the knowing answer was too frightening.

The pregnant silence was too much for Spock. "If we bonded, we would be in contact with each other at all times. I would be functioning much like Leauna did, in that we would be sharing T'Ra essentially. If we..."

Spock was stopped by a kiss. Relief flooded through him.

Once they broke apart, McCoy said, "I would be honored to marry you Spock. And don't think I don't see past that Vulcan practicality. You've wanted this for a while."

Spock's tensed, immediately thinking it was an accusation. However, upon seeing McCoy's smiling face, he relaxed. Spock had not seen the other man's face light up like this in what felt like a lifetime. Seeing brightness return caused him to mirror his lover, which caused another chuckle.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were smiling."

"I could say the same for you."

"Well, I've never been proposed to before, especially not by a being as impossibly perfect as you."

"Believe me, Leonard. I am not perfect. Being bonded to a Vulcan will not be easy."

"Being married to a human isn't easy either," McCoy replied. "I did it before. I knew what to do, but I didn't do it, and I lost her. With you, I'm not going to be so careless. There's no way in hell I'm letting you get away."

As they kissed once again, T'Ra joined them and welcomed light touches from McCoy. Spock shivered and moaned into his lover's mouth.

"We will need to wait at least a few days so I can prepare," Spock said once they separated. "We will have to tell Jim, and..."

"Spock," McCoy chided with an accompanying squeeze in the ribs. "Shut up."

Neither slept for the rest of the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Several days had passed, and one of the most active months in the captain's memory finally came to a close. Krios IV had a mining dispute dealt with by the captain, and the Betazoids were being menaced by an entity who was throwing their telepathy out of whack. All in a week's work for a starship. The only difference to the captain was that his two best friends were nowhere to be found when off duty. The first he had heard from them in a non-work capacity in the past week was when they contacted the captain through private com channel saying they had something important to discuss.

"Spock made the request from McCoy's channel," Aesina said as Kirk walked down the hall. "He looked pretty happy. I don't think it takes a genius to figure out what they're going to tell us."

Kirk nodded in agreement, knowing no words were necessary. He had noticed the recent turnaround in both Spock and McCoy as much as the crew did. He even got comments from the crew McCoy seemed to be back to his old self, except with an extra infusion of cheer. They had said the same of Spock, except for his general refusal to go on away missions. Kirk could not think of anything which could cause that great a change besides what he was suspecting.

"I have to admit, I'm proud of Spock," Aesina said once they entered the captain's office.

"Here here," Kirk replied, letting a grin split his face. "Is it bad that we believed nothing would ever come of Spock's feelings?"

"It was an educated assumption. The same was true with Bones' condition. Speaking of which..."

Kirk was interrupted by a blinking light on his private channel. Although most of the time such messages were to deliver new orders, Kirk could not help but get a rush of hope that new developments in his personal quest to find Bones' daemon were forthcoming.

He opened the message and was greeted with an image of a plain-looking Vulcan woman sitting behind a desk. Her hair was similar to Spock's, only slightly longer, and she wore the traditional robe of a healer. The shining Starfleet insignia sewn on the robe's shoulder stood in stark contrast to the homely appearance of the woman.

"Hello Captain Kirk," the recording began. "My name is T'Remberale. I am a healer in Starfleet's employ on Starbase 16. I have been informed of the situation of the settlers on Cerebus II, and that you had taken a personal interest in their recovery due to the tragedy befalling your doctor. First, I must express my condolences. Second, I wanted to extend my hand to collaborate and find a solution. My specialty is quite rare - kator-dva. Roughly translated, I am trained in how to use my telepathic abilities in regards to the katra. While I mainly specialize in Vulcan katras and their transference to the Hall of Ancient Thought, I have also been learning much about the human-daemon relationship though my work among your race. I might have insights into how to heal the broken rifts the settlers have suffered. I would very much like to talk with you over live com link in the next few days, and eventually I would like to meet in person to evaluate Dr. McCoy. Please return this at your convenience. Live long and prosper."

The screen went blank, and Kirk was left dumbfounded. He could not believe his luck. He did not even know their were Vulcan healers - or any healers for that matter - who studied the daemon. The only ones he knew of could only be classified as pseudoscientists with no real proof their methods worked. It still amazed the captain that in this age of amazing medical advancement, the daemon was still a taboo subject for study, which was a detriment in times like this.

"We can't get too excited. She didn't say she had a cure," Aesina said as she put a paw on Kirk's neck.

"It's more than we've gotten in months, though. I think this still calls for a celebration."

"I guess we can kill two birds with one stone then. Let's invite our new Vulcan friend to Bones and Spock's coming out party."

oOOOo

"Okay Spock. Spill." McCoy said as he pulled his uniform tunic over his head. "Who is this T'Rememberall, and why's she got you in a tizzy?"

Spock was going through his usual routine of straightening his clothing and smoothing his hair in the mirror. McCoy could not help but grin at how his lover even felt the need to look perfect when going on an off-duty social call.

"Her name is T'Rem-ber-ah-lay," Spock said slowly as he grabbed his comb from T'Ra's beak. "She was an old friend of mine on Vulcan. I have not seen her in many years."

"Ah," McCoy said with a grin. He plopped on Spock's bed and put his arms behind his head. "A old girlfriend, eh?"

"If she were so, I would have told you," Spock replied, somewhat curtly. "We were friends as children. In fact, she was the only one who was kind to me in school while all others, including my betrothed, treated me like an enigma."

McCoy's face fell. "Oh. Sorry, Spock."

The Vulcan emerged from the bathroom with T'Ra perched on his shoulder. His expression showed he had no ill feelings. McCoy again longed for the time when they would finally become bonded, so he could avoid awkward moments like this when he feared he hurt the Vulcan's feelings with his careless words. Although the past week had brought McCoy immeasurable happiness, he also was aware of how new and fragile their relationship was. There were many matters they had yet to address. The largest one was Spock's fear McCoy might abandon him when - or if - he was reunited with Leauna. McCoy wanted nothing more to assure him this was not an issue, but he also knew nothing would convince the Vulcan until the reunion actually happened.

Not that he blamed Spock. McCoy sometimes wondered how this new energy within was possible. It went beyond simple love. The doctor found himself feeling far more optimistic about the future - more than he had been since his twenties. In that same vein, he now felt the stamina of a much younger man, both in and out of the bedroom. McCoy and Spock both took notes of what had happened, hoping that after this entire ordeal was over, they could maybe use the information to help others in similar predicaments. While an adoring Vulcan lover was not something which he could write a prescription for, this could be a Phinneas Gage situation, where one man's experience helped advance knowledge of a previously unknown subject. The possibilities only added to McCoy's glowing mood.

"Do not be sorry, Leonard," Spock said in a far more gentle voice.

"Okay, but I still don't understand why you're so jumpy. If she was really that nice to you, then wouldn't you be happy to see her?"

Spock sighed. "Since we do not have much time before we are to meet the Captain, it would be far easier for me to show you the details."

McCoy nodded as he allowed Spock to sit beside him and initiate a meld. Joining with Spock's mind was now as easy as tying his shoes or brushing his teeth, and yet there was still a feeling of awe about it.

The image of the barren Vulcan landscape materialized, along with a lone boy followed by a saber-toothed animal with copious brown fur.

/I'm guessing that's a selat,/ McCoy commented.

/No, that is T'Ra, in the form of a selat./

/Thats what I meant, Mr. Literal./

/Either way,/ T'Ra interjected. /I admit it was not my finest form./

The group continued watching the scene as several Vulcan boys - all quite a bit taller than the younger Spock - started to run toward him. McCoy tensed. This was not going to end well. He did not know if he could bear to watch helplessly as the younger version of his beloved was tormented for the way he was born. Spock felt his reluctance and expressed gratitude and love for these feelings. He then urged him to continue to pay attention.

One of the boys snuck up behind them and pulled T'Ra's stubby tail. McCoy flinched and immediately got angry.

/Even toddlers know better than to do that!/

/Human toddlers, maybe./

McCoy was appeased when he saw T'Ra change forms into a Terran black bear. This seemed to frighten two of the boys, but one - clearly the leader - said, "It cannot hurt us. Daemons are harmless. Spock is simply emoting." The final word was practically spit. "The human trespasser you call a mother gave this blight to you, Spock. Why do you not chide it?"

McCoy knew what he would do in this situation, but he did not expect Spock to do the opposite. "T'Ra!" Spock shouted to the bear. "Stop! Vulcans do not act in such a way."

The daemon shrunk back - McCoy swore he saw hurt register on her face - and changed into something which looked like a chicken.

/Dokai/ Spock provided.

/Why did you listen to those little bastards?/ McCoy asked angrily. Both Spock and his daemon remained silent. /And why did you yell at T'Ra? She should have known what to do without any communication./

/Our relationship was quite different back then, Leonard./

"Neither do the three of you," came another voice, this one feminine. Seemingly from out of nowhere, a Vulcan girl in a thin white dress and hair in a long braid ran to stand beside Spock. "As I am sure your fathers have taught you, the daemon is in essence a katra."

"A human katra," the leader said. "If Spock wants to carry such a thing around, he does not belong in our society. He cannot be truly Vulcan with such a thing..."

"How would you feel if I called your katra a 'thing,' Stonn?"

/Stonn?/

/Precisely./

/Wow. T'Pring picked a real prince./

The girl walked slowly toward the gang, and McCoy could have sworn the boys looked nervous. She extended her hand before saying, "Maybe you would like to see how it feels to have your katra touched by another. My mother has been apprenticing me, as you know. I have been waiting to practice fal-tor-pan on someone. Maybe your katras would fit well in a a'kweth or a sha'vokh.

/The equivalents of a sandworm and a vulture,/ Spock provided.

/Oh,/ McCoy said, understanding. /She's good./

"Y-you are being untruthful," Stonn said, although his body language betrayed he thought nothing of the sort.

The girl gave a small Vulcan smile which communicated so much. "Why Stonn, it appears you are emoting."

Once the girl got within a meter of the group, Stonn held up a hand.

"It is illogical to continue in this conversation with you when we have far more important...pursuits. I do not have time to listen to your threats." With that, the trio turned and walked toward town, although faster than they normally would.

"You should not have done that," The younger Spock said immediately with a hint of anger in his voice. "It was logical for me to learn how to control myself in such situations."

"You cannot tell me such actions are logical," the girl replied. "I do not take kindly to disrespecting another's katra, or any other part for that matter."

"Internal katras are far more logical. An external one is vulnerable and brings forth emotions which cloud thought."

"Your mother seems to be faring well with her own."

"How could you know of my mother and Bayanai?"

"You are Spock, son of Sarek and the human Amanda. All of Shi'kahr knows of the half human among them."

"Just as they know of T'Remberale, the daughter of the kator-dva healer T''Sari - keeper of the Hall of Ancient Thought."

The girl gave another smile. "So you have heard of me. Yes, I am T'Sari's daughter, and I realize what is said about my family's area of expertise. Yet, I am proud of who I am, Spock. You, however, are ashamed of your human heritage, and the daemon at your side. I am envious of the opportunity to intimately know my own soul as humans do. If my ancestors and I were not so uniquely attuned to our own katras, we would likely question their existence."

"It is a far less cumbersome prospect."

"In other words, it would allow your peers to treat you as an equal? From my experience, even if you had no daemon, you would endure the same treatment."

"There is no reason your experience and mine would be similar."

T'Remberale looked like she wanted to sigh but did not. "Will you at least let me walk you home?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I am not coming for protection. I simply want to talk. I promise, if we encounter anyone uncouth on the way, you can lead our defense."

The younger Spock seemed to ponder the request, then nodded.

The desert image faded to a night scene. The sky had no moon and was dotted with seemingly endless stars. Underneath the sky was a vast garden illuminated by soft lanterns lining the winding paths. The garden was lush with flowers from many worlds, but the most prominent origin was Earth.

Towering over the garden was an oak tree, which looked to be thriving despite the dry environment. Among the branches sat three figures - two humanoid and one avian. Spock and T'Remberale appeared older than the previous image. Spock had grown much taller and lankier and his companion had more feminine features. T'Ra had taken the familiar teresh-ka form, so McCoy knew Spock had already hit puberty by now.

"I met my betrothed today," T'Remberale said, as if discussing the weather. "He is a fine boy, one of the most intelligent in our school. He also amused me with anecdotes of his father's experiments on Terran ferrets."

Spock nodded, appearing to only half listen.

"I was originally unsure about having my spouse chosen for me, but I have no doubt I will desire him in time. I should have surmised my mother would choose an adequate mind match for me."

"Your mother is wise," Spock said, sporting a much deeper voice than before.

"If I did not know any better, I would say you are distracted," T'Remberale said, nudging Spock in the arm.

"Your assumptions are correct," was all the reply she heard.

"Well, it is a logical action to tell your closest friends of troubles so they do not impede your functioning."

McCoy could have sworn there was an undertone of disdain as she spoke in a very Vulcan fashion.

"You are correct, I have just not told anyone as of yet. As you know, my betrothed is T'Pring."

"Yes," T'Remberale said with even more disdain. "I take it you still have not told your father you are sa-ka-ashausu."

/Translation?/

/It is the Vulcan term for a male homosexual./

/Really? I didn't think Vulcans had a sexual orientation. They just mated logically./

/I believe my relationship with you would counter such an assumption, Leonard./

/Touché/

"Such facts are irrelevant. As the only son, it is my responsibility to help carry on my father's line. Even if my inclinations are not toward my bondmate's gender, she will still be who I am drawn to during my Time."

"Which leaves T'Pring on her own in the seven years between."

"This is not what I am pondering on, anyway," Spock said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "And I wish you would not push me to tell my family irrelevant facts about my own inclinations."

From McCoy's vantage point, T'Remberale appeared hurt by this.

"T'Pring's father has informed Sarek that he does not feel it right for T'Ra to be...present when we are married. He says the family finds it distasteful, and had only agreed to the betrothal because they assumed there was a way to neutralize the daemon without harming me."

"It seems quite illogical to make such an assumption."

"Not so when you learn your mother told them it was possible."

T'Remberale's eyes widened and looked at her friend. "Surely you cannot be serious. She said nothing to me about such a thing."

"Apparently it is an easy process. Her power to manipulate the katra through mental energy easily translates to the human daemon. It would be a simple procedure of transferring the entity from the physical plane to the internal plane. T'Ra would lose her sentience and become an extension of my consciousness, like all Vulcan katras."

"But...they cannot force you into such a thing."

"If I do not marry T'Pring, I do not see how I can find another suitable woman due to my...condition. T'Pau knows my mind and says she is the best match on planet. She visited me and informed me this procedure would not only allow for my marriage, but also make my intended goal of following Vulcan intellectual pursuits far easier."

T'Remberale by now had moved so she was sitting in front of Spock. "So in other words, she said you cannot be truly Vulcan if you have T'Ra?"

McCoy could not help but notice the daemon in question was perched on a branch ignoring the proceedings and looking at the stars. He had never seen a daemon so uninvolved in this sort of conversation.

"You do not need T'Pring," T'Remberale continued. "You can find a male mate just as easily. A t'hy'la bond is well regarded among our people."

"I would not be able to produce children," Spock said, averting his gaze from the girl.

"Male Vulcans can carry children much more safely than most species. The VSA has proven this."

"I am half human. Every human male who has tried to carry a child has died."

"That might not be the case in a few years."

"T'Remberale, please stop," Spock said. "If it were not for you, this decision would not be as difficult. It is, however, necessary."

The girl clenched her fists. "I will never regret teaching you how to love your daemon. She does not deserve to be sitting above us like a Terran gargoyle. You are the only one who has the right to decide what happens with your soul."

Spock took a deep breath and turned to climb down the tree.

"Spock..."

"I would kindly ask that you leave my mother's garden. Our conversation is over."

/What's with the hostility?/

/She had been my friend, but I had blamed her for the turmoil within. There was also a part of me which blamed her for my being forced to eliminate my daemon, but then I also blamed her for it being such a hard decision in the first place./

/Sounds like a normal response from a teenager./

/It was in times like this, I wish I had been more Vulcan. Such actions were not fair to her. They sprung from emotional turmoil caused by my childhood, and were not her burden to bear./

T'Ra jumped in. /She was right, though. Spock was too young to be aware the daemon is not just a pet, but an essential part of who the person was. If there is a rejection of the daemon, there can be grave psychological consequences. Spock grew up a confused and repressed boy because of what had happened, and in turn I felt the same./

/You talk as if you were...separate people./

/In essence, we were,/ Spock said. /I might as well have been severed, but instead of an outsider cutting me off suddenly, I created the rift on my own. If there had not been intervention, the damage would have been irreparable./

In the flashback, T'Remberale huffed as she jumped from the high branch to land on her feet. She gave the boy a subtly dangerous look. "Live long and prosper," she spat as she hurried out of the premises. Spock was left standing alone at the foot of the tree. T'Ra flew to perch on a nearby brick fence. She looked directly at her parent.

"Spock," she said forcefully. The young Vulcan had been averting his gaze but now looked straight at her with a sad and defeated look.

The scene faded again to a large lounge area with a crackling fireplace and long flat cushions arranged in a semi circle. In the circle sat Sarek, Spock - who looked only slightly older than the last image - T'Pau, and T'Remberale. The latter was sitting close to an older Vulcan woman dressed in orange robes.

"Spock, I urge you to reconsider," Sarek said. "The Vulcan Science Academy is the finest institution of learning in the Federation, and is a far more appropriate use of your talents than Starfleet."

"T'Pring's family will not be pleased you have chosen to delay your marriage," T'Pau interjected. "They also do not want to see any further delay in the fal-tor-pan."

"I see this is why you have brought T'Sari and her...apprentice," Spock said, sparing a quick glance at T'Remberale and her mother. "I will assure you, T'Pau. My decision is final. Having a daemon will see me well in Starfleet, since so many of my peers would be human."

"You are not their peer," Sarek said. "You are Vulcan."

"I am also half-human, and I believe my talents are quite well suited to Starfleet."

"I can see the boy's decision is final," T'Sari said. McCoy could have sworn he saw a smile on T'Remberale's face.

The meld broke and McCoy rubbed his eyes to get used to the bedroom again. He reached immediately for Spock's hand before the Vulcan could run off, entwining their fingers in the process.

"I can't believe they almost made you do that," McCoy said, almost in a whisper.

"Those around me saw my daemon as a hindrance," Spock replied.

The doctor's eyes found T'Ra, who was perched on Spock's shoulder. He found it hard to believe the neglected creature from the memory was this same being, who stood by her parent to a fault. McCoy had heard about daemon rejection, but he had not seen it and he certainly could not fathom it. To reject a daemon was akin to purposefully not breathing.

"You think less of me now," Spock said, more as a statement than a question. "It is hard for you to understand how one can treat a daemon so coolly."

McCoy nodded. "I admit I thought this of you quite a bit after we first met. T'Ra seemed more like window dressing to you. But, what I just saw...that was a whole 'nother level."

"Shame," T'Ra provided. "Spock was ashamed of me."

"I was not ashamed of my mother or my human side," Spock provided.

"T'Ra was your human side!"

"Not necessarily, Leonard. There is more to being human than just a daemon. T'Ra represented an exposure of the inner self, which is something Vulcans avoid. The inner self is to remain private, and kept under tight control. It is difficult to control a creature in the form of an animal, or so Vulcan common sense would say. It seemed to undermine the choice I made to follow the Vulcan way. Of course, Vulcans respect both humans and daemons, but they did not think such a 'childish' expression of one's soul was appropriate for one of their own. In short, T'Ra represented all the ways I was inferior to my peers."

McCoy's eyes filled up with tears as anger welled in him. As a man who would give anything in the universe to have his daemon back again, seeing other daemons treated badly was a heart wrenching concept. Daemons deserved to be treasured, not chucked aside. McCoy had known Vulcans were not perfect, but he had no idea they had thought such things about daemons. All he wanted to do was march into that damn great hall of their's and rip them a new one. Illogically, he also wanted to rip Spock a new one for letting such a thing happen.

McCoy then looked toward his lover and was reminded of the present. T'Ra stood close to Spock now, like so many other daemons did, and appeared to give the same good feelings to her parent. Their relationship now stood in stark contrast to what he had seen in the past.

The look in Sarek's eyes weighed heavily on McCoy. Spock remained a contradiction. He had chosen the Vulcan way. Yet had a glaring reminder of his "inadequacy" with him at all times. The only people who had told him otherwise were T'Remberale and (hopefully) his mother. McCoy could not imagine such a thing happening to him, although he imagined the lives in the remote Appalachian villages were quite close. The severed girl he saw twenty years ago must have had her head filled with similar things. McCoy thanked God his father employed theology which had matured beyond the fundamentalism of old.

"From what you grew up with," McCoy said. "I don't blame you for the way you acted. From the looks of it, your own father even wanted you rid of her."

"From what I remember of my infancy, my father was distressed I had a daemon. Since so many of my other bodily functions were Vulcan, he hoped my katra would do the same."

"Tough cookies," McCoy growled. "He chose to marry a human. He should have known something like that would happen."

"We have pondered similarly on many occasions," T'Ra chimed.

McCoy reached out two fingers and stroked her neck. After getting to know Spock's daemon, he could not imagine such a being not existing. She could not be a vague, ethereal force within Spock if she tried. It was her destiny to live her life in the open.

"What made you change your mind?" McCoy asked. "About T'Ra."

Spock hesitated. "My mother and I had a...talk. She completed the work T'Remberale had been attempting. It was not a cure, but it allowed me to begin peaceful coexistence with my human side. Later, this relationship blossomed into what it is now, but it took many years."

"When you first met us," T'Ra said. "I acted more aloof than I was. In the past, Spock and I were separated in every way except the physical bond. Although our outward relationship was not as rich as people would expect, our internal was much deeper."

"I'm glad," McCoy said with a grin. "I would love to know what your mother said to you."

"That will come when we do not have an appointment to keep," Spock replied. "The emotional effects of reliving the memory - they will take some time to recover from."

"I can live with that, but as illuminating as this trip down memory lane was, I still don't see why you're so nervous about seeing this woman. You took her advice after all. I assumed you would have made up after this."

"We did not," Spock admitted, sadly. "I could not face her after my behavior, especially with all she had done for me. The scene from my home was the last I saw T'Remberale."

"Until now."

"Yes, indeed," Spock whispered. "Also, T'Remberale is the one I most strongly associate with almost losing T'Ra. It is not a pleasant time to look back on, especially now."

McCoy stood from the bed and kissed Spock softly on the lips. He ran his hand up and down in arm in a comforting gesture.

"It appears there were no hard feelings on her part. She offered to help us, even though she probably knows this is your ship."

"But she likely does not know I am so closely involved with you."

Their foreheads touched as they drank in the sensation of contact. "You don't have to come if you don't want to," McCoy said. "If this is too painful..."

"No, you are my t'hy'la and future bondmate. Your fate and mine are intertwined. I must be there for you, and continue the quest to have you healed."

McCoy smiled and gave the Vulcan another human kiss, longer and deeper this time.

"Good, because I don't like the idea of being away from you."

oOOOo

The pair walked into Kirk's office, immediately grabbing each others hands. They had both agreed not to mince words, especially when Spock told McCoy that the captain had figured out his feelings months ago.

They were greeted with a grin from their friend. Kirk could not have been happier his suspicions were confirmed. "I guess I don't need to ask what this meeting was about, nor what you've been doing with your free time."

McCoy's face lit up to mirror Kirk. The captain was not prepared for the surge of emotion at seeing the doctor smile again. Having gotten used to the dark and sullen expression partnered with the occasional forced grin, this was something of a shock. Bones was happy. Kirk honestly did not think this was possible without a daemon.

"I do not believe dwelling on the happy news is in our best interests right now, Captain," Spock said. "I believe our meeting with T'Remberale is on the forefront of our minds." McCoy's face grimaced, but he did nod in agreement.

Kirk stood from his chair, Aesina jumping to his shoulder, and walked over to the pair. "C'mon Spock. The healer hasn't hailed us yet, and I want to revel a bit in having my friend back." Kirk grabbed McCoy's forearm and squeezed affectionately. The other man mirrored the gesture.

"It's good to be back, Jim."

Kirk looked to Spock, who still appeared a bit anxious. Based on his previous response, he figured the Vulcan was simply pondering on the upcoming thread of hope they had been extended.

"I still don't understand, though," Kirk said, hoping to get Spock's mind off uncontrollable matters. "How this much improvement could happen so quickly."

"It turns out Spock was holding back," McCoy said. "If he gave too much in our melds, that would mean we would telepathically bond. The thing was, it was happening anyway because our minds are compatible, as the Vulcans would say. The feelings on both our parts helped, too. This caused me to have a bit of a...breakdown." Kirk caught T'Ra bristling at the word. "Long story short, this drove us to admit our feelings, and we committed to enter into a Vulcan marriage bond."

"Woah. Marriage?" Kirk said, pulling back in shock.

"You guys just got together a week ago and now you're married?" Aesina shouted simultaneously.

"Take it easy, Jim," McCoy said. "We're not married yet. We have what I've taken to calling a pre-marriage bond. It gives me a steady stream of mental energy to keep me going, while not having the permanence."

Kirk looked to Spock, who was remaining silent, although a pallor of hurt now shaded his face.

"I never enter into things like love and marriage lightly, Captain," he said, not looking up.

"I'm sure that's not what Jim was implying," McCoy said, lightly stroking Spock's arm.

"He's right, I'm just not used to things like this happening...so fast," Kirk provided, now blushing.

The com whistle sounded and Kirk sighed in relief. This conversation was not at all going like he had envisioned it, and he was sure his friends felt the same. He hoped this respite would allow him to school his embarrassment and continue in a better mood. The captain spoke briefly with Uhura and patched through the video call, allowing the familiar face of the healer T'Remberale to fill the screen. Spock stiffened at the sight, but gathered himself quickly.

"Good evening, Captain Kirk," she said with a nod. Her eyes widened when she scanned the room's visitors.

"Spock," she said, clenching her fists. If Kirk had not known Vulcan mannerisms so well, he would not have noticed the gesture. "It is good to see you again. It has been a long time. T'Ra looks well."

Kirk now knew why Spock had been so nervous. This person had been close enough to know his daemon's name. Spock had never mentioned her, but there was much about his life Spock did not mention.

"T'Remberale," Spock said, raising his hand in the Vulcan salute. Kirk saw the slight tremble in the gesture. "Live long and prosper."

The female Vulcan mirrored the gesture. "Peace and long life. I presume the man beside you is Dr. McCoy?"

"Yes," Spock replied.

"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am," McCoy said, putting a hand to his chest and tilting his head downward. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at the Vulcan salute."

"No need to worry, Doctor. I live amongst many humans on this Starbase, and not many can do a proper ta'al." Her attention turned to Spock. "It appears the melds have been quite effective. I can barely tell he is severed."

"It has not been easy," Spock said. McCoy discreetly took his hand. Kirk could not help but notice the gesture, warmed by what he saw. He was again kicking himself for being so harsh earlier.

"I can imagine it was not," T'Remberale said. "Either way, as I told your captain, I was appraised of the minimum details of your situation, as well as your response to it, but I would like to hear the story from your point of view."

McCoy was the one who gave most of the details, while Spock offered input on what he offered in the melds. Kirk was listening intently, realizing there were elements of the story he was not terribly familiar with. He had been caught up in fixing the situation, so several details must have escaped him. Another possibility was that he chose to cut himself off.

To his surprise, Spock was the one who told the woman he and McCoy planned to be married, and this was why there was a marked improvement as of late. He was still tight-lipped about the "breakdown" which had led them to this point.

"I am pleased to hear you have found a mate, Spock," T'Remberale said, sounding sincere. "Although I will admit these are not ideal circumstances."

"You and me both," McCoy provided.

"Either way," T'Remberale continued. "I know you are still looking for Leauna, but you seem confident you are going to get her back from her Xarth kidnappers. I agree they will have to emerge sometime soon. Either way, I would like to meet with all of you as soon as possible. I would like to gauge Leonard's psychic energy, and the broken bond. This will help me determine the best course of action to take."

McCoy looked like he could barely contain his excitement. "So, you think you can help me?"

"I will have to meet with you to know for sure, but I am quite certain something can be done to reunite yourself and your daemon."

Kirk furrowed his brow. Her answer was a bit vague - too vague for a Vulcan. Still, he felt he could not put a damper on McCoy's apparent enthusiasm, and it was logical not to give a more detailed answer before meeting with Bones in person.

"Starbase 16 is about two days away at warp 2. I'll make arrangements with the Admiralty, which I'm sure they will accept pending any crises. We have had quite an active week, so I'm pretty sure we're due to make a stop."

"I will clear my schedule. Thank you, captain."

oOOOo

The connection cut, and T'Remberale let out a breath, hoping against hope those on the other side recognized something in her demeanor which told them to stay away. Particularly Spock.

Oh Spock, he had already been through so much already. He had to know there was something wrong. She knew this was in vain, though. She understood human hope all too well. It had the tendency to blind.

"Well done," came the hated voice from her side. T'Remberale looked at the Xarth woman with the stolen daemon. She put as much hatred as she could behind the look. It was all she could do.

"We almost believed you," the daemon said.

"Leauna," she said, pleading. "You cannot possibly..."

"Her name is Bathsheba!" Amara snapped. "And I think you know the etiquette regarding the engagement of other's daemons."

"She. Is. Not. Yours." T'Remberale said through gritted teeth. She knew an emotional release would not do anyone any good, but it made her feel better.

"I think it's time for you to join your husband. I would like to remind you we still have weapons on him, as well as T'Luminar."

Again, the desire to attack was great, but T'Remberale thought of her family first. Amara had proved the telepathic hold she had on her henchmen, and how she could simply project one thought and they would do her bidding. Once the henchmen reacted, the Romulans in her employ would follow suit, using the dreaded disruptors. Amara might not be able to take over the mind of Vulcans, but she still knew how to control them. Not for the first time, the healer cursed her decision to live separately from the Starbase and set her own schedule. No one would know something was amiss for at least a couple weeks, unless by some miracle she was needed.

By then, it would be too late for the men from the Enterprise.

T'Remberale stood and allowed herself to be escorted out of her office by two large Romulans. She was taken through her living room into the bedroom where Strom and T'Luminar were sitting on the bed looking to the floor. Their hands were joined, giving each other a subtle comfort.

Neither looked up to meet her gaze, not that she blamed them. They were disappointed in her. They both expressed hatred toward Amara's plans, and expressed the illogic of bowing to whims of an insane woman with no regard for life. T'Luminar was willing to offer her life for such a cause, as was Strom, but T'Remberale could not accept that. She could not lose her bondmate or her daughter. She justified her actions by saying they could more easily overcome their captors with the help of the of the Enterprise.

She approached her family, allowing herself to spare a glance at the three armed guards aiming their weapons right at them. She sat on the bed, and attempted to gauge their feelings, but their mental shields were up. T'Remberale told herself it was because they wanted to protect their minds from Amara's invasion, but she knew there was an element of keeping her out as well.

"Are they coming?" Strom asked in monotone, not looking at her.

"Yes," T'Remberale said in barely a whisper. She was thankful he allowed her to place her forehead on her shoulder and softly cry.


	12. Chapter 12

Bathsheba always hated this part of the day. It was boring watching Amara in the bed with Chavek, writhing around and moaning as if they were in pain. Though she received the occasional surge on pleasure, there was nothing for her to do but think. Or not think. Amara did not let her think. Instead, she called it pondering.

She still did not understand why, after working so hard to separate her from Leonard McCoy, there was such a rush to get him back. Amara assured her it was necessary to convince the Xarth, but then why did they not keep him in the first place? Bathsheba had no desire to see the man again, especially with what Amara said about him. Why would she want to come near a grizzled, xenophobic doctor when she had Amara? Despite the mysteries of her thought process, they still belonged together.

Bathsheba could not remember having to work this hard to understand a parent. She also could not remember being so miserable. She put on a brave face for Amara - she did rescue her after all - but there was something missing. She could not for the life of her recall what Leonard McCoy had done to her to feed this discontent. She wished she could. The information could help Amara be a better partner to her.

Incompleteness was all she was sure of. Bathsheba knew dependence was her lot in life. There was no way she could exist as a separate entity. Just as the physical beings needed food and water, she - as a physical manifestation of psychic energy - needed her Source. A mental source. Without it, she would fade into nothing. Yet, despite getting her basic needs met through Amara, there was still a deep emptiness within which called for something more.

/Spock.../

Bathsheba jumped to her feet. There is was again. The faint echo of a voice, and a weak wave flowing through her. This time it was different. Love. That was what it was this time. This was new, yet familiar. It had not been strong enough to register with Amara, but she had been receiving flickers on the edge of her consciousness occasionally. Up until recently, the feelings had been unpleasant, but now they were much more welcoming. She wanted to be a part of whatever this was. It called to her, like a beacon. Although it called to her, the name addressing her was different. Was it her true name - the name she had before?

"Bathsheba!" Amara called. Startled to attention, Bathsheba realized Amara had completed the required coitus with her officer and was refitting her robes. The Romulan had apparently gone to sleep, and Amara was quite relieved. She secretly hated the man. The situation only seemed to cause misery, which drew Bathsheba to the loving flicker all the more.

"You are receiving psychic signals from Leonard McCoy," Amara growled.

Bathsheba widen her eyes. "How did you know?"

Her partner sighed, rolling her eyes. She always got this way after sex, and Bathsheba did not like it one bit.

"I know everything you know. I know you contemplated leaving me."

"Never!" Bathsheba shouted immediately.

"Good, because we both know Leonard McCoy is not yours. He is not a good man. You need to tell me if you feel anything like this ever again."

She nodded. "I will, but I thought the link was completely severed?"

"You have been asking too many questions lately," Amara said, still angry, although as short surge of worry was projected. "The link was severed, but there is still a psychic connection. This is why his death would lead to yours. I'm not sure why this is, but I have been trying to find ways to break it so you can be truly free. He has been bonding with another telepath, and I am sure this is giving him the ability to reach out and try to take you back more actively than he could have otherwise. When McCoy comes to us, we will make sure he does not bother you again."

"But I thought we needed him."

"We do. You would die if he died, but I will attempt to nullify his ability to utilize the psychic link. His telepath friend is one of the men Chavek wants, so it should be made all the more easier."

"Spock? Yes, I heard that name through the connection."

"Did you?" Amara seemed to relax and Bathsheba followed suit. It was always exhausting when her partner was miserable and angry, which seemed to be happening more lately. The psychic energy she had to expel, dealing with the Romulans, and planning for her future conquests were taking a toll. There was also a more deep-seated pain which she had not yet revealed. It was painful to have such things hidden, but Bathsheba was sure Amara had her reasons.

"Well, they will be arriving tomorrow. We must make final preparations before our friend here decides he needs another go."

"Why do you have sex with him if you hate it so much?"

"Chavek does not know what to do with a strong woman unless he is fucking her," Amara replied. She rose from the bed and projected the subject was closed. Bathsheba was unsatisfied, but made herself content with what she got. Amara was right, there was no time to think on such things. She honestly did not know how she would react when she saw Leonard McCoy again, but she swore she would mentally prepare herself so it was not love he saw. She was no longer his, and he would know that.

oOOOo

"Captain, I must speak with you."

Kirk was relieved Spock made the first move rather than himself. The day after their meeting, there was a yellow alert called for a possible Romulan intrusion near where they were stationed. There was no evidence of immediate danger, but the orders were to keep an eye out. It was serendipitous that the area where the sighting took place was near Starbase 16, where T'Remberale waited.

Needless to say, he had not had a chance to make up for his insensitivity toward McCoy and Spock's announcement. He was still uncomfortable with the idea of McCoy jumping so fast into marriage - particularly since he was not at full capacity. Their conversation last night did nothing to dissuade this feeling. Then again, he knew Spock well enough to know he had taken such a thing into consideration.

"Of course, Mr. Spock," Kirk said. The tone of voice indicated it had to do with matters of the heart. Since what happened between him and Bones had developed quickly, Spock likely did not have a chance to process it. Now that McCoy was busy in Sickbay, it was as good a time as any to look at Spock's side.

Once they sat, Spock waisted no time.

"I cannot stop having doubts, Jim."

Kirk felt a heavy weight in his stomach. "That you love McCoy?"

"No, I will never doubt that," the Vulcan said quickly. "However, you were right in your assessment this has happened incredibly fast."

"I feel the need to clarify these doubts are not my own," T'Ra said. "I...know things will work themselves out. It is hard for me to believe McCoy would have fallen for us if there were not feelings there before his intercission."

Kirk nodded, understanding. "You're worried McCoy's feelings are not genuine."

"Yes," Spock said. "At times it is easy to simply follow my daemon and let myself be content to have been granted this...miracle. But I am also a Vulcan. If I do not consider all angles, I would not be true to my nature."

"Is that why you were so tense during the meeting, and why you were so...defensive?"

Spock had been looking at the table during the exchange, but now looked Kirk full in the face. "No. The reason for my behavior was T'Remberale."

"I figured you knew her."

"What you say is true, but this was not the only reason for my reticence. I sensed she was not acting in accordance with her personality."

"At the time it was somewhat disturbing," T'Ra said. "But it stood to reason after fifteen years, changes are bound to take place. Still, with the news of the Romulan sighting, it is best we use caution."

"Reminds me a bit of the last landing party we all had," Kirk said with a sad smile.

"Except this is a Starbase we are going to, and a well defended Starbase at that," Aesina continued. "If we need any assistance. It will be easy to access. Besides, this is not the subject at hand."

"Reuniting Leauna and Leonard is of the utmost importance," Spock insisted.

"I know that, Spock," Kirk said. "I have made every arrangement. There has been no indication of Romulan incursion on the planet. If there is, it will be small enough to handle."

"What about Lady Amara?"

"Spock, what are the chances of Amara being at the exact Starbase we are about to stop at? And even if she is, that would be a plus. We could get Leauna back, and reunite her and McCoy all at once."

"If T'Remberale can do such a thing."

Kirk furrowed his brow and leaned back in the chair. "Spock, you're going down that road again. You're using 'mights' and hypotheticals."

"This should not be a shock, Jim. You know I have been lax in my controls."

"And you're ashamed," Kirk said. "You're ashamed because you're scared. You're scared if McCoy gets Leauna back, he won't want you anymore."

Spock's head fell again. "Leonard is not back to normal. There is still an element of his old personality present, but he is much less cautious."

"He's in love, Spock. Do you remember when the salt vampire took the form of Nancy? You remember how long it took him to shoot it? McCoy has deep emotions, and loves about as fiercely as anyone I know. That's why Jocelyn hurt him so badly. You have never seen him really in love. I only saw part of it."

"Do not forget when he had xenopolycythemia, Jim," Spock said. "He fell in love with Yonada, yet left her behind when he received a cure. Difficult emotional situations cause changes in his priorities, but when the situation is resolved, things change."

"I don't know if he really loved her, Spock. He was...desperate. We both know he would have been transferred to a Starfleet hospital when the time came close, and who knows if we would have been able to join him. He did not want to be alone when he died. This time is different. He really does love you."

"You are a romantic, Jim," Spock said. "It is difficult for you to provide an accurate assessment."

"If I recall, I figured out you had these feelings in the first place. I may be a romantic, but I'm not stupid."

Spock closed his eyes, showing subtle signs of exasperation. Kirk worried he might be losing the other man, but was encouraged with a nod.

"I suggest loving Bones as much as possible," Kirk said. "We will worry about the future when it comes. Like you said, there is no guarantee with this healer. Let's not ponder on things which have not happened yet."

"I cannot take the risk I am using him."

"But we're not using him," T'Ra said to her parent, not even attempting to hide frustration. "We are not the Vulcan warriors of old who would take mates of both genders and force themselves on them physically and mentally. Jim is right. Even if the happiness is artificial, it is still happiness."

Kirk loved hearing the silver daemon speak, awed with how two such distinct personalities could exist within Spock's being. Aesina and him were on the same wavelength constantly. Even when he was split into his good and evil sides, Aesina was split as well. Spock had said that the Vulcan and human warring within was a constant struggle, and getting them to exist peacefully with one another had taken a long process. He had seen the progress even during their current mission.

"I'm going to call ahead to the Starbase and put them on alert. Will that make you feel better Mr. Spock?"

"Yes Captain," Spock said while standing to leave.

"Wait," Kirk said, lifting his hand. He could not let this moment slip through his fingers. "Before you go, I have to apologize for the minor freak out I had when you and McCoy announced your engagement."

"There is no need..."

"No, there is. I'm...I will admit, I had worries similar to yours - that Bones wasn't ready or he was trying to complete himself in some way. I...should have given both of you more credit."

"You were concerned because you care," Spock said, allowing a softness to spread over his features.

"You know how much I love you, right?" Kirk said while Aesina placed a hand on T'Ra's crest. Spock's daemon leaned into the touch.

"Yes Captain, although I trust it is as a friend rather than as a lover. Humans' limited language with regards to affection often leads to confusion."

Kirk laughed. "Yes Spock. You're my best friend and my brother in every way but blood. I'm going to do everything I can for you and Bones."

Spock gave one of his warm smiles which barely lifted his cheeks. "I feel the same for you, Jim. I am often...humbled I have been allowed two such people in my life."

The captain nodded, "Last time we had a conversation like this, you looked ready to rip my head off. I like this better."

"Indeed, Jim. Indeed."

oOOOo

Beaming down to Starbase 16 was always a treat for Spock, with or without an important rendezvous. It had some of the finest science labs run by humans, and although he was often loathe to admit it, the human methods of experimentation utilized here worked better than many Vulcan methods. It was here the transporter code was revised to accommodate daemons, and the beginnings of a cure for an Andorian ailment similar to the Terran AIDS virus was being studied.

He would not be visiting any of the labs, however. Spock looked to either side of him to see both his best friend and his lover trying to school the tension which ran through them. It was far easier for Spock since he had years of practice, but he also knew they had no one to impress here.

The welcoming atrium of the base was shaped like a circle and was lined with several shops and restaurants. A diversity of humanoid species perused the offerings, but the crowd was small. It was likely a combination of the off-season and the Romulan threat. There was surely little time for recreation when almost all the personnel were likely at their posts.

The trio stepped off the platform into the empty space, and made their way to the aircar port. Kirk had already rented one ahead of time since T'Remberale's house was so far out of the way.

McCoy became immediately self conscious once he stepped into public. This had been the first time off the ship in months, and now his exposure felt all the more apparent. Spock offered the use of T'Ra, and her presence on the doctor's shoulder helped a bit. He portrayed gratitude through the bond, and made it apparent he wanted to kiss him right then and there. Spock tilted his head toward the captain, and McCoy relented, but not without a two-fingered kiss on T'Ra's stomach. Spock turned to Jim to lead the way, and the captain could not contain his amusement. Although no words were exchanged, he knew exactly what was going through their heads.

When they reached the aircar, Spock felt the tension return. There was no turning back. The fear of seeing T'Remberale had been replaced in the past few hours. He tried to remind himself this was not their only chance. There could be other ways to make McCoy whole again. This was their best chance, though. Spock was not biased on his knowledge that there were no other beings in the known galaxy with better knowledge of the soul the kator-dva healer. Based on her family background, T'Remberale was one of the finest among this group. If she had not contacted them, he would have made effort to seek their help in these matters at some point. Spock just hoped she would say something to their benefit, so their hope did not continue to be blind.

The three friends exchanged no words. Through their bond, McCoy was expressing similar anticipation and fear. This could be his only chance, but no chance would be possible without Leauna. They had assumed over the past weeks she was within reach, but this was not a guarantee. Since they were now on their own, he felt free to take his lover's hand and squeeze.

The automated aircar trip was short - only twenty point two-five minutes. It felt like a lifetime. They disembarked with the captain in the lead and his two friends behind. McCoy could not bring himself to unclasp his hand from Spock's. The Vulcan did not object.

"Spock," McCoy said, stopping them both. They were about a hundred feet from the front door of the traditional Vulcan abode nestled in the foot of a mountain. The main buildings of the Starbase were mere dots on the horizon, and there was not another house in sight.

"I know, Leonard," Spock said, giving his lover's hand a squeeze. "If this changes things, I assure you it cannot be for the worse."

"I'm gonna feel pretty stupid if I'm worrying myself into a tizzy for nothing. What if she says...there's no hope?"

"Then we will find another way," Spock said softly as he placed a kiss to McCoy's forehead.

"Gentlemen," Kirk said. "I think we have done enough reflecting in the past few days to make Plato look flighty. I think it's time to stop thinking and start doing, don't you?"

McCoy sighed and nodded in response. Jim was right, of course. Fearing the future would get them nowhere. If Spock had simply taken initiative instead of brooding over McCoy's condition, they could have found each other much sooner.

As a group, they made their way to the foyer and knocked on the door. It took less than a second for the door to open, revealing T'Remberale in the flesh. Spock immediately felt dread wash over him. Something was not right. He passed his hesitation on to McCoy. They spared a quick glance at each other and to T'Ra. Her empathic senses were screaming fear and aversion. As well as...glee. But not from T'Remberale.

Even without the benefit of telepathy, Kirk sensed it too, if his stance was any indication. Without saying a word to the Vulcan woman, he turned quickly. The look in his eyes prompted Spock and McCoy to turn and look at the three Romulan guards armed with disruptors.

"Why don't you go in?" The tallest Romulan said in a crackly voice.

Kirk immediately reached for his phaser, but a strong arm from behind stopped him and took the weapon from his belt. T'Remberale now joined the guard in their threatening posture.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding genuine. "I had to trick you into coming here. I had no choice."

Spock said nothing, but could not keep the anger from his expression. He looked at his former friend. She had been such a strong and independent force in his youth. Now to see her so pitiful and frightened was a shock and disappointment.

Disappointment seemed to define this moment, as well as self loathing. He should have known. He should not have let them walk into a trap so easily. He had been so blinded by this hope. This was the same mistake they made when this whole mess first started. Now, it appeared to be how it would end.

oOOOo

Having been stripped of their weapons and herded inside, McCoy finally allowed himself to feel the emotions he had numbed himself to when they first realized they had walked into a trap. This had been their best chance, and now it was gone. McCoy was not sure what this meant, but the Romulans outside did not appear particularly friendly. Whatever their agenda was, it would not be easy to escape from.

McCoy would not let them have what they were after, this was certain. He could not help but feeling a sense of peace, because he had known love and given it in return, something he had longed for since before his divorce. He only wished he could have gotten the chance to marry Spock, and gotten Leauna back from the clutches of...

"Amara!" Kirk said with a low voice.

McCoy looked up, and indeed there was the yellow-skinned woman who had been the object of his hatred for three long months. She was flanked by Dr. Weinburg, a Romulan, and...Leauna.

His eyes went wide, his throat closed, and his heart gave a nervous flutter. Here, after so long, was his beloved Leauna. She looked the same, if not a little more stiff. She was looking straight up toward Amara, and seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him. She did not look sick, but not at full health either. No longer were they separated by light years. Things were now as it was meant to be...almost. They still had no bond. They could not truly touch unless they found a way to reconstitute the connection, which now seemed far more remote.

McCoy gave into his first instinct and tried to lunge toward her, but was stopped by a muscular Romulan throwing his arms around his chest. McCoy fought, desperate to get within arm's reach of the other half of himself, but it was no use. Spock tried to project calm in through the bond, but he blocked it. The last thing he wanted right now was restraint. If he could not touch Leauna, then he at least wanted her to look at him.

"Bones," Kirk said, half pleading and half expressing sympathy.

"How wonderful it is to see you all again," Amara said, with enough false cheer to make all of their skin crawl. Aesina leapt from Kirk's shoulder toward their enemy, but Amara quickly grabbed her and threw her against an adjacent wall. The action made Kirk scream and collapse to the ground.

"I have grown far less tolerant of your little friends," Amara said. "Although, they are quite pleasant when retrained, like Bathsheba."

When McCoy saw she was referring to Leauna, his anger exploded. "You renamed my daemon after a fucking Old Testament whore?"

That got Leauna's attention. She radiated fear and trepidation, but also determination.

"She can call me whatever she wants," she finally said. "I am hers, not yours."

McCoy's heart fell at the statement. That voice - the voice he knew so intimately - now rejecting him. Obviously, there had been some telepathic control at play, but this knowledge did not ease the sting, nor did his lover's silent support. McCoy slumped against the Romulan holding him, allowing the old despair to come roaring back.

He looked to his lover and saw there were two Romulans clutching onto his arms so hard, his hands were turning a dark green. He kept the same unflinching facial expression he always had in these situations, but McCoy felt the sympathetic anger radiating from him. That intricate brain of his was already weaving a plan to escape, but the emotions surging both from himself and Spock were muddling the process.

"I see you two have been having some fun since we last saw you," Amara commented. "How sweet. You have lovely little bond between you. Sharing a daemon I see. Now, that's cheating isn't it? How can humans expect to start life without daemons if these pesky telepaths won't, as you humans say, take off the training wheels."

"What about him?" McCoy said through gritted teeth, nodding toward Dr. Weinburg. "It looks to me like you're still controlling him."

"His wife has died, and he is unwilling to break our connection. Sad really. None of the other humans I cut seem to be doing it either."

"You sick fuck!" McCoy shouted, again beginning to struggle. "You're even more crazy than before! They're not recovering because they have no soul!"

Amara again gave a dark smile. "You see, Bathsheba? You see what I got you away from."

"Yes, I can see it now," the daemon said.

McCoy did not think his heart could break anymore than it had, but he was wrong. "Leauna," he pleaded. "She's manipulating you. You have to..."

"Shut up!" Amara shouted.

"Why are you so afraid to have Leonard talk to her?" Spock said in a voice which barely contained it's fury.

"I fear nothing," Amara said. "You on the other hand are scared your little human concubine will not need you anymore. It was genius really. Swooping in while he was at his weakest and acting like a savior. It was an expert manipulation. Humans are so easy to claim once you know what to do."

"You don't know anything," McCoy growled.

Amara turned to the older man. "Oh, don't I? I know you have been using your new telepathic boyfriend to try and reach my daemon."

"What the..."

"You have not only been coddled by the Vulcan, but are also trying to pull back what is no longer yours to have. Don't worry, I'll show you how to really be free, and then we will go to my people."

"Hold it, are you..."

"But first, we have to get rid of this pesky little link. Can't be cheating, can we?"

Before McCoy could react, Amara touched his face, and he felt the beautiful intricate connection had had developed with Spock snap.


	13. Chapter 13

"Leonard!"

Spock and T'Ra shouted in unison as their link with McCoy broke. The impact caused Spock to collapse to the ground as pain shot through his head. He tried to reach out telepathically, but his senses had been stunned by the blunt force of separation. He could barely talk to his own daemon.

T'Ra was equally as affected, but her first instinct was to fly toward McCoy. He did not even acknowledge her presence. His eyes were glazed over and his body was stiff and limp, just as he had been when they found him lying in the hanger three months ago. McCoy was once again lost in the darkness of his mind. She tried to touch him, but a hard boot kicked her back toward Spock. The Romulan member of Amara's entourage now stood between them and the doctor.

"You're mine now, Commander Spock. You and your captain."

Spock barely heard the man. His mind and eyes were on McCoy, who was now being attended to by Amara. Predictably, she was positioned in a way which blocked Leauna from getting too close. Based on the concentration in her eyes, she must have been attempting to form a telepathic link with him. The idea filled Spock with rage.

Not only did this woman take his lover's soul, but she wanted his mind. She sought to destroy the beauty that was Leonard McCoy by taking his free choice. Had this man not suffered enough? She had not right to enter his head. She would treat it like her garbage heap. The mind deserved to be treasured and loved.

"T'hy'la," Spock said, using the word he had not dared speak up until now. This word represented such deep feelings that he had doubted he would ever be able to say it out loud. Now he knew he meant it with all his heart. Spock pounced, trying to get to his lover before his mind could be corrupted, but he was stopped again by the large Romulan. A bony hand grabbed Spock by the collar and lifted him to his feet.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "I am Chavek. I am a military commander on the Romulan planet."

Spock wrapped his arms around Chavek's in an effort to get free, but the two guards recaptured them before anything could be done. The cold, dirty feeling inside indicated someone had grabbed T'Ra.

"I can see you are not in the mood to talk right now. Your captain is currently being taken to our makeshift brig, where he should be waking up soon. You will be joining him. And don't do anything foolish." Chavek unsheathed a sword with a purple blade. "I am not planning on using this until the appointed time, but I am not above changing my plans."

Spock stiffened when he saw the sword was Olomite, and this man could easily break their daemon bond with a flick of the wrist. There was a part of Spock which did not care.

"We are not leaving without Leonard."

"He is in good hands," said Amara. She was now leading McCoy by the elbow. He appeared a bit better than when their split first happened, but he still looked dazed, as if he were under the influence of narcotics or suffering from a seizure.

/How much of this can one mind take?/ Spock asked himself. McCoy had endured two major fissures in his mind process over a short period of time. His heart sank at the thought of what could be happening to the man he loved. Would there be anything left after this?

"I highly doubt that," Spock said, his eyes shooting daggers at Amara.

"Well Chavek, he's yours now and you're welcome to him."

"Excellent," said Chavek, giving a ghost of a smile.

The next thing Spock knew, he was being thrown to the ground in one of the adjacent rooms. Immediately, the door shut with a crash, telling Spock it was metallic. The smell and ambiance were that of a Vulcan bedroom. This was quite obviously a makeshift prison.

Spock looked to his right to see Kirk coming to himself. He had been unceremoniously deposited on the floor just as Spock had. He looked shaken, but otherwise alright. Spock turned his head toward the bed, where T'Remberale sat hunched over with her face to the floor. A man and a female child sat in similar positions perpendicular to her. They were facing a pair of Romulans armed with disruptors.

There was an immediate desire to lash out at his old friend, but to do so would be pointless. Spock knew the two fellow Vulcans were her family. Their bond, while strained, could be felt from across the room. She obviously was desperate, and had no choice in the matter. Amara would have fulfilled their mission with or without her. Besides, it would be wrong of him to mistreat her in front of her daughter. They all had been through quite enough.

"T'Remberale," Spock said softly. He barely got her name out before a guard snapped at him to remain quiet. It appeared they were not allowed to talk to each other. Spock looked to Kirk, who was still getting his breathing under control. When the captain looked at him, he subtly slid his fingers toward him. Spock did the same. Aesina came between them and T'Ra followed suit. Kirk took his daemon's hand and Spock touched a talon while the daemons came in contact.

Thank to their strong bond of friendship, it was possible to communicate when they were touching.

/Where's Bones?/ Kirk asked. The question was faint, which was to be expected when their touch had to be so subtle. From the angle they were sitting, it looked like they were comforting each other.

/Amara broke our bond/ Spock said, allowing his anger and grief to flow between them. /She has taken him. I do not know what plans she has beyond this./

/Does this woman get off on doing this to Bones?/

/I have to assume there will be damage, although ours was not a permanent bond. The Romulan Chavek will be taking us, and I can only assume we will meet the same fate as Leonard./

/What makes you say that?/

/He had a sword made of Olomite sheathed at his side./

/Shit./ Kirk said, trying to hide his reaction from the guards, although he suspected they were not the sharpest knives in the Romulan drawer. Most of their countrymen, while devious, were not so quick to violence. /Is Bones the way he was...before?/

/Amara took control of his mind immediately, although he still did not look at full capacity. I do not know how she is intending to use him in her favor. All I know is that staying here is not an option./

/Spock, I'm so.../

/Please do not apologize, Captain. We must focus on our current predicament./

/But...forget it. Do you really think Amara is going to convince anyone?/

/The Xarth people are desperate, so I cannot predict. Either way, she has these Romulans on her side. What they are planning to use us for is likely more foolproof than her plans. Although she has committed horrible atrocities, she is essentially working alone. She sought help in completing her plans, and an ambitious Romulan soldier simply used her knowledge to his advantage./

/So the Romulans know about Olomite. That means we're pretty much fucked. Whether we want to admit it or not, daemons are a weakness in battle./

/As far as we know, only Chavek and his men know about Olomite, so we have to find some way to stop him from relaying the information, or using us as a demonstration./

/Are you suggesting we kill him?/

/If we must. This could cost billions of lives if passed on to Romulan hands./

Kirk was silent, then said, /You want to include her in our plans?/ The captain tilted his head toward T'Remberale.

The Vulcan woman took this as an invitation. She slid off the bed, her gaze turned slightly toward the guards. They watched here warily, but did not say anything. She positioned herself so they could see her mouth, but could not see her touch Spock's free hand. The moment the touch was initiated, the thoughts frantically spilled out of her. Spock tried his best not to look overwhelmed.

/Spock I'm so sorry I was desperate I did not mean for this to happen I was forced to do this they were going to kill my family!/

/T'Rem!/ Spock shouted, using a nickname he had not utilized in years. /I will not lie to you. I am distressed at this situation and your participation in it, but this cannot be our focus. The captain and I were discussing the ramifications this situation could have./

/I am aware. I am sure they will kill us after this. I was unthinking and foolish. You know I have never fit into the Vulcan mold, but now I wish I had./

/T'Remberale,/ Kirk interjected. By now Spock was allowing his old friend's thoughts to go between the three of them. /You're a Vulcan, so I'm assuming you have the ability to help us reason out of this./

/Of course./

/Then we need to both stop the Romulans and Amara in one swoop./

/It would be illogical to focus on Amara,/ Came a different voice. T'Remberale projected it was her bondmate, who was still sitting idle with their daughter. /She is inconsequential. She will not succeed In her plans without the Romulans./

/They have my bondmate,/ said Spock.

/It is this sort of emotionalism which caused our predicament to get this far. Keeping one man captive does not constitute a crisis./

/Strom, her people might cause issues for the Federation of Dr. McCoy assists them,/ T'Remberale said.

/Yes, she might cause problems, but it is not our immediate concern. There will certainly be a problem if we allow the Romulans to have this technology./

/You make a valid point, Strom,/ Kirk said, causing Spock to exude distress. /We can't do anything about McCoy now./

/Captain.../

/Amara is preparing to leave, I'm sure. We now know exactly where she is going. We'll go after her and take this Chavek character with us./

/Jim,/ was all Spock could project. He wanted badly to protest, but Kirk's logic was sound. For the first time in their friendship, their roles were reversed.

Dr. Weinburg hated himself. He hated his life. He hated what he had become. He was not sure how he arrived at this point, or how he allowed the woman who killed his wife to consume him so completely.

He had not heard anything from Lea since their separation, yet there she stood, always on his shoulder. The touch was comforting in a way, but it was not enough. He needed more. He did not realize his predicament until he started having mysterious dreams, where something which looked like an Oriental dragon image came to him and spoke on simple sentence:

Amara must be stopped.

For some reason, this did not occur to him until the dreams began. After three nights, he began to drift out of the stupor he had been in for months, and see with clear eyes what he had been doing. When Amara finally assimilated the deer, she did not allow him speech any longer. He could not offer her advice like he used to, although such words did not feel like his own. Now, there was a mental block which made every order she gave him Gospel. There was a hole in such control, though. When she was not speaking, he could think for himself.

He did not at first, because it took effort to collect his thoughts and tap into what he once was. The dragon changed that. He seemed to give him the strength to see past where he was being led. Now that he knew, all he wanted was to shoot himself out of an airlock.

But Weinburg knew he could not do that. He had to make up for his crimes. The man Amara brought aboard the ship did not deserve what was coming to him - what he had helped bring to pass. Now he had to make it right, but he was not sure how.

The ship was now in initial take-off phase. He stood near the back of the bridge while Amara and the doctor went into the back. The lady was looking quite smug. She had won after all, or at least she thought she did.

Weinburg scanned the bridge, hoping for something to divert her with. The dragon was right. She had to be stopped. If this specific scheme did not work, she would find another and cause even more destruction.

His eyes stopped on the circular object which appeared to be impaled on a cone. The cloaking device. He was not an engineer, but Weinburg was familiar with Romulan technology. His father worked frequently with items salvaged from battles and abandoned colonies. Just like human devices, there were similarities between every piece of machinery made. Humans took these similarities for granted, just like Romulans did.

Weinburg slowly walked to the device, careful to check the faces of the Xarth who monitored the bridge. After expending her energy for so long, Amara no longer had enough power to make them fully alert, so they were not looking at him or what he was about to do. He slipped a knife from the belt of the oblivious helmsman. Once he reached the cloaking device, he scanned the wires which connected to the bridge functions. There was only one he wanted to find. It was wispy and silver, and contrasted with the other wires despite being gathered with them. He quickly cut the fiber with his knife. He was thrown backwards by the electrical force, which he should have expected since he had cut the device's main power.

The bridge crew remained oblivious.

Montgomery Scott had no interest in being a captain of a ship. He liked being behind the scenes. Diplomacy was never his forte, and crises not involving engines tended to put undue stress on him. Bronwyn buzzed in his ear, whispering reminders about what the next bridge check would have to be. He was thankful his daemon had the small honey bee shape, because he had a concrete way to keep him on task without being too conspicuous.

The captain, Spock, and McCoy had been down on the planet for about two hours now. This had been the first time they had taken a landing party together since Cerebus II. Scotty was devastated at what had happened to McCoy, and had gone over and over about what he could have done to prevent it. He knew he had followed procedure, and any other second officer would have done the same. Still, now that the same scenario was playing out, he could not help but think on past mistakes. He decided this time he would be extra cautious. Even though this was a routine stop, the Romulan threat and sensitive nature of the doctor's health justified his caution.

"Lt. Uhura," he said to the dark woman behind him. "Make a call to the captain. I would like to make sure everything is all right."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Scotty turned to look at her. She had a warm smile, and her crowned hornbill daemon looking as relaxed as he ever looked.

"Granted," he said warily.

"You are not the captain's mother. He might get a little miffed if you are acting like one."

Scotty could not help the grin which spread across his face. This woman always knew how to make him smile, even when chiding him on the bridge. "Do you know the same captain I do, Nyota? The man has at least twenty mothers on board keeping him outa trouble. I'm just more upfront about it. Now patch through the call."

Uhura did so. After at least a minute of trying to make the connection, her smile disappeared. Scotty did not need to hear her speak to know there was no response. On a low-risk trip like this one, that should not happen.

"Commander," Sulu said. "A craft just uncloaked as they left the planet's atmosphere."

Scotty's ears perked up. "Romulan warbird?"

"No. It's...I can't believe it. It's the silver ship. The one we have been looking for, sir."

"The Xarth ship? Bloody perfect." Scotty was only being half sarcastic. "Grab them with a tractor beam before they can warp out of here." He turned to Uhura. "Call Commander Giotto. Mr. Chekov, scan the planet and look for our men."

"Why did we uncloak?" Amara shouted, practically screaming into the communicator from her cabin.

Bathsheba flinched at the loud voice. From the looks of him, Leonard McCoy did, too. The voices on the speaker said the device had stopped receiving power because the wire had been cut. Amara hit the table with her fist and accidentally sent the communication speaker flying across the room, hitting the wall next to Leonard McCoy's head. The man flinched and fell to his knees.

Amara grabbed her hair and attempted to calm herself down. "Bathsheba," she said. "I am going to the bridge to work this out. You stay here and watch our doctor. He should be alright, but holler if you see anything unusual. I will not have the extra brainpower to attend to him completely."

"Of course," Bathsheba answered before her partner ran out the door. She was shell shocked at how distracted Amara was. Initially, she was forbidden to be around Leonard McCoy for fear he would hurt her again. True, Amara would be right down the hall, but Bathsheba was still frightened of what could happen. The doctor had not said a word since they had broken his connection with the Vulcan, and this should have taken care of anything he could do to her from a distance. There was still the possibility of him physically attacking her. The admonishment she delivered while on the planet made him angry, and some of that might still remain.

She spared a glance in his direction, and saw he was not even looking at her. He was curled in the fetal position and leaning against the wall. This would not do. How could the Xarth people believe Amara's message with this pathetic example?

/Go to him./

Bathsheba flinched. This had been another voice she had heard before, but far less frequently. It sounded like a mental voice, and yet it still felt like normal conversation. While asleep, this voice was accompanied by a creature she thought was called a dragon. All she knew was that it did not scare her. In fact, it felt like a brother. Now it was back, and urging her to see to Leonard McCoy.

"He's going to hurt me," Bathsheba responded, although it sounded quite pitiful coming from her mouth.

/He will not. Go to him. Ask if he has ambizine in his med kit./

"What does that mean? Where is his med kit?"

/On his belt. It's small, and easy to forget about. From what we have learned about human medicine, ambizine is standard in Starfleet med kits, and is similar to Xarth medicine which serves an important purpose./

"Why would I ask him such a thing, then? Why don't you ask him?"

/This man is very sick. Try as I may, I will not be able to reach him./

"Who are you?"

/I am as you suspected. I am a brother./

"Not literally, I presume."

/No, but I sense you trust me./

Bathsheba pondered this, and agreed. She did trust him. She did not know why, nor why it felt right to disobey Amara right now. Amara was her everything and had taught her how to be a better friend and daemon. Why would she be doubting her, especially now?

/Look at him. Does he look dangerous?/

The daemon again hesitated, but she looked again at the older man who appeared to be in pain. He was in the same position he had been before, except now he was shaking. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was moving his lips to make inaudible sounds. Bathsheba crept closer, going as slowly as her long legs would allow. As she moved closer, she was able to make out what was being said.

"Spock. Leauna. Spock. Leauna."

Those words - no...names - were being spoken like a mantra under his breath. The words carried so much weight - so much sadness and pain. Bathsheba reminded herself this should not be anything which should deter her. Bad people can experience pain, and often have been shaped by it.

Nonetheless, all the reminders in the world could not stop her from having compassion. She bowed to her first instinct and moved her nose to this man's hand and slipped underneath. This calloused, cold palm should not have felt so good. More than good. It felt...right.

"You still have ambizine in your med kit," she said, without thinking. Was that wrong? What was she doing? Amara would be furious if she discovered her so close to the enemy.

Bathsheba backed away quickly, putting as much distance between herself and Leonard McCoy as the room would allow. Now he was looking at her, and his hand gravitated to his side, where a black package attached to his belt.

"Leauna," he said in a breathy voice. The tone was reverent, as if in prayer. Bathsheba began to shake. She had to maintain perspective. The voice was wrong. This man was dangerous. He would help them on Xarth and then she would be rid of him forever. These confusing feelings would be forever dispelled.

Right as she was about to scream, Amara rushed in, looking flushed and frightened.

"The Enterprise has seen us. They have us in a tractor beam."

"What?" Bathsheba said, shocked.

"Do not worry. I have the power to fight them. I just need the two of you with me. It will be difficult to maintain the connection if you are too far away."

Amara had just noticed McCoy's change in demeanor and furrowed her brow. He was still looking at Bathsheba, but now his hands were at his sides.

"Come," she called, and McCoy obediently stood and followed them.

When Bathsheba dared to look at the doctor again, his hand was once again on the black package.


	14. Chapter 14

Warning: Themes of suicide

* * *

Spock sat in the corner, distancing himself from the guards whose attentions were focused on the prisoners. So far, the only reaction these men had was too their charges speaking to each other. They had not yet realized the telepathy which existed between all of them.

It was the Vulcan's duty to scan his surroundings, which was a difficult task due to his shields being neglected for so long. His attention had to be completely on the escape, and not on his missing lover, or the jagged edges of their broken link scraping against the edge of his mind. Now that he had a taste of what Leonard had gone through, he welcomed Chavek's plans even less.

There was only a small window in the room, and it was bolted. The door was made of reinforced metal. The walls were completely soundproof, and appeared to be bolstered with steel. This room must have served as a safe room, since Spock found it incredibly unlikely the Romulans made all this in their time here. Safe rooms in Federation standard would be able to block scanners, but not transporter beams. While they could transport out if need be, they would not be found unless exact coordinates were given. It was unfortunate the safety was currently being used against them.

The Romulan guards had taken their communicators and weapons, and for all he knew they were destroyed. There had to be a way to get a message to the Enterprise. Since this was a place of hiding, it would highly illogical to not have a way to contact the outside world. He had to find this method, and quickly. Chavek could signal them to leave any moment.

T'Ra delivered the information to Aesina, and Kirk joined in the visual scan of the room. The naked eye would not be enough in this situation, they admitted. There would need to be a thorough search, which was not possible with the guards watching them.

"I think we've already established these guys were not at the top of their class," Aesina whispered. "Maybe we could overtake them somehow."

"They have their hands on the disruptor triggers," T'Ra said. "It will not be easy."

"Well, we have something they don't. Disruptors work on human bodies, but not on daemons."

"That has never been tested."

"If we can't get out of this, we're dead anyway, as is T'Remberale. We need to try. I'm sure the family would know where the communicator is."

"If they did, they would have utilized it."

"These are not your everyday Vulcans, and they might not have had to use the safe room before. Starbase 16 is not exactly a hub of violent activity."

Spock looked at T'Ra and then at his captain. He had faith in this man. He would follow him to hell and back if possible. Kirk was the only person who wanted McCoy back as much as he did.

They nodded in mutual agreement, and their daemons broke free. Aesina scampered to the right of the trio, while T'Ra flew to the left. The guards were startled and immediately shot at the ceiling and walls. Strom and T'Remberale used the split second to grab the necks of two guards in a nerve pinch. They then fell to the ground, leaving the single tattooed Romulan. T'Ra used her talons to grab his long hair, while Aesina bit his hand to steal the weapon. The distraction allowed T'Luminar to administer a pinch of her own.

Meanwhile, Spock and Jim looked at the damage the disruptor beams did to the room. The red curtains had a number of holes, and one of them revealed what was clearly a com panel. Spock ran for it and ripped the remaining curtain out of the way. T'Remberale joined him, her arms protectively around her daughter.

"Why did you not tell me about this?" Spock whispered to her.

"This panel does not work. There is no power to it."

Her statement was confirmed with Spock tried to activate the panel with no response.

"These walls are completely soundproof," Strom said, now holding a disruptor. "They will not be able to hear our commotion, but we will not be able to hear them coming."

"Which they should be any moment," Kirk said, picking up a weapon of his own.

"These Romulans are free agents," T'Remberale said. "There should be no reinforcements after they are defeated."

"Of course, they have to be defeated first," Kirk said. He quickly stunned the guards as they began to stir. "We have to see what secrets Amara shared with them. We can't let any knowledge get back to the Empire."

"Agreed, Captain. T'Remberale, do you have a battery of any kind?"

"I am sure there are some around here."

"It is best we start looking then."

Spock felt along the side of the com panel to find a way to open it. The unit must have been at least thirty years old and never once used. Even if power did get to the unit, there was no guarantee they could contact the next room, let alone the Enterprise. He finally found the indent to pry the unit open, exposing the jumble of wires indicative of older technology. Spock quickly located the thickest chord and separated it from the others before ripping the wire in two, exposing hundreds of silver threads.

"T'Ra, I hesitate to say this, but..."

"I am the closest power source available," T'Ra finished, taking the chord in her talon and holding it to her stomach. She spread her wings to balance herself, but it still took some time to get situated.

"Wait a minute," Kirk said as Aesina yanked the chord away. "What the hell are you doing?"

"There is no danger to me, Jim," T'Ra said. "As you know, daemons are made of pure, psychic energy. Although taking all of stores is what we are trying to prevent, I have figured out a way to temporarily expend power when needed."

"And why did we not know about this before?" Aesina asked, still reluctant to return the chord.

"The need never arose, and if it did, we knew you would act illogically," Spock replied, taking the wire back and handing it to his daemon. "Only T'Ra can do this because my Vulcan half allows her to have some mental control over where her own energy goes."

Kirk looked like he wanted to protest further, but he relented. Based on their fruitless battery search, they truly had no other choice.

"So I suppose we do not need a battery?" T'Remberale asked, now returning to Spock's side. "Why did you not do this in the first place?"

Spock looked solemn as he monitored the still-dead panel. "You know why, T'Rem."

The other Vulcan nodded, understanding. They had not exchanged many words in the time since their reunion. Spock did not have the heart to ask if all she spoke about in her messages had been a lie. He was sure T'Remberale was pleased with the path he had taken with T'Ra, but was she truly able to reconstitute the bond Leonard lost?

Spock shook his head of his reverie. The whole message had been a ruse. There was no ray of hope any longer. Survival was the goal now. McCoy's tragedy would be a drop in the barrel if they did not succeed.

After four point two minutes of T'Ra channeling energy, the lights in the panel blinked on. Spock immediately went to work orienting himself with the old technology, which was less arduous than he feared. This resembled the com technology they used while in Vulcan primary school and latent memories kicked in rather quickly.

He quickly punched in the code for the Enterprise, and let out a breath when he heard Uhura's voice on the other end. His relief did not last long, because the communications officer sounded obviously fearful.

"Commander Spock," she said. "We're being pulled apart here. We don't know what it's from, but it must have something to do with the silver ship. We are trying to destroy it, but..."

"Doctor McCoy is on that ship!" Spock shouted before he could stop himself.

"Mr. Spock," Scotty said, his voice as strained as Uhura's. "Is Captain Kirk with you?"

"Kirk here," the captain said.

"The phasers and the photon torpedoes aren't responding, and the ship looks to be stretching in four different directions. Any longer and we'll break apart."

"Amara," Kirk growled before slapping his palm on the wall.

Suddenly, a thought came to Spock. "How did you see the ship, Mr. Scott?"

"It doesn't matter! We have minutes left up here! I don't know what trouble you've gotten yourselves into, but I have to leave you on your own."

Spock looked to the captain, whose face betrayed his despair. There was nothing in the known universe Kirk loved more than his Silver Lady, and now he was hopeless to stop her destruction. Spock lifted a hand to place on his shoulder, but was interrupted but the front door opening, revealing Chavek and several henchmen. Strom aimed his weapon, but Chavek was too fast and shot a disruptor beam at full power. The Vulcan let out a blood curdling scream and fell to the floor.

"No!" T'Remberale screamed before collapsing to her knees in pain, both physical and mental. Kirk aimed his own weapon, but one of the guards stunned him, leaving only the unarmed prisoners intact. Spock pulled his friend and her daughter close to him, blatantly breaking Vulcan decorum.

"I'm glad you had a little bit of fight left in you," sneered Chavek. "It will make your capture all the more satisfying." He unsheathed his sword. "Spock, I believe you and your captain have an appointment with my Emperor."

oOOOo

It was foggy, and McCoy did not know where he was. All he knew was the black med kit on his belt, and the deer less than three feet away.

Leauna.

It had been so long. The moment he felt her snout on his palm, things felt right in the world again. There was no need to worry about the future, or why his brain seemed to be making decisions without consent. One such decision he hoped reversed was the prevention of touching his girl. It was nonsensical, since they were finally together again.

The main question on his mind was why she had mentioned the med kit. His hand remained on it while he watched the yellow lady concentrate on the view screen. Through the fog, he saw his own ship on the screen.

The Enterprise. Yes. While he was on the Enterprise, he was the doctor. He loaded medicines in the small pack. The last memory he had of the medicine was talking with beloved.

Spock. Beloved. The one who sheltered him through the darkness. He had told him...no...they had agreed to pack a medicine he had with him all the time, but was not always refilled. It was for...Amara. The yellow lady. Right now, she was the one keeping him upright in the fog, but she was also keeping him away from Leauna. She was not a good lady. Right now, he could feel her strong emotions course through him, and wanted nothing to do with it.

This woman had taken Leauna, and she had taken Spock. The medicine would help get them back.

McCoy opened the pack, and saw the hypo right on top - the one Spock gave him. He pulled it out and studied it.

"Amara!"

The woman was turning at the warning shout. He needed to act fast. His mind was telling him to put the spray away, but he would not. Amara would no longer take from him again. He ran toward her, and discharged the medicine in her neck. He smiled before everything went black.

oOOOo

Just as Scotty closed his eyes and prepared to meet God, the shaking stopped. The systems on the bridge whirred to life again, and the shaken crew started to get their bearings. Scotty loosened his vice grip on the captain's armrests, hoping no permanent damage had been done by his fingernails.

"Mr. Sulu," he called. "Get that bloody ship in here."

"But sir..."

"First they mess with McCoy's daemon, then they mess with my ship. I'm looking forward to getting a piece of this Amara woman." Scotty turned to Uhura. "Did you get the coordinates from the communication with the captain?"

"Yes sir," Uhura replied, still out of breath.

"Good. Tell Kyle to lock on to every living thing in those coordinates. I'm ready for this bloody day to be over."

oOOOo

Amara stared at the carnage around her, ready to scream from the unfairness of it all. A voice in the ship's communicator was repeating a spiel about her being under arrest, but she barely heard it. All her crewmen were lying slumped in their seats. Dr. Weinburg remained in the corner, knife protruding from his heart. Behind her, McCoy lay on the ground in an unconscious heap, the empty hypo spray still in his hand. Within centimeters of him was Bathsheba, looking barely alive. The way they lay close together, it was like they were never separated at all.

She grunted in frustration and slammed the captain's chair with her fist before laying a kick to McCoy's chest. The automatic grunt should have been satisfying, but it only made her more downtrodden. She had failed. Her plans had fallen through, and she would never go to her people. She would never prove to her useless uncle and all those privileged good-for-nothings that she had worth. Now, she would be a prisoner of the Federation, and likely put in a place where gaining back her powers would be impossible.

Amara already had her second chance at being somebody. She had underestimated the relationship between humans and daemons, but she knew her ideas were right. One day, someone would prove it, but it was unlikely she would see it. She would not go into a Federation prison and simply be an untouchable in yet another world. Amara had said her life as an outcast was over, and she meant it.

On impulse, she put the daemon under her arm, and grabbed McCoy's wrist. She dragged them down the hall back into her quarters. She threw McCoy into a corner while she placed her daemon on the couch. No matter what, this being was still beautiful, and spending these months together was worth it. Amara allowed herself one more touch on the shining brown fur, although she felt far less electricity under her fingertips.

Amara let out a sob. It was not fair. It was not supposed to end this way. She was to live a new life with her daemon and her new world where the humans could not touch them and the lights of Xarth shown again - only with every citizen enjoying it rather than the elite. Now this would never happen. Her world would be either be taken by the Federation, or die from its own excess.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, her sadness turned to anger. She looked to McCoy, lying slumped in the corner like an old rag. How he defied her powers was the furthest thing from her mind. All she wanted to do was choke what remaining life was in this man.

She crawled toward him to do just that, shaking with glee at the thought of the Vulcan being alone and the captain failing once again. Amara stopped when she realized McCoy's death would mean Bathsheba would fade into nothingness. No, that was not an option, but she could not tolerate the idea of this man happy. While his mind was likely injured, there was still a chance he would be restored. The universe worked in mysterious ways, both for good and for ill.

The idea hit Amara suddenly, and she wondered why it had not come to her before. It was simple, yet would exact the revenge she sought. Although the strength of her power was suppressed, she still had some ability left. Once she was within arms reach of McCoy, she put hands on his face.

oOOOo

Kyle sighed with relief once the eight beings materialized on the pad. The coordinates had been somewhat vague, but they worked.

"What is the meaning of this?" Chavek shouted, looking around frantically. His guards appeared equally disoriented. Security ran into the room and immediately, Scotty on their heels. The Romulans pulled themselves together enough to point their weapons, but security stunned them before they could pull any triggers.

"Put them in the brig," Scotty said. The enemy soldiers we dragged away quickly, leaving three Vulcans and one human alone on the pad. Kirk was just waking up from his powerful stun, rubbing his eyes as Aesina curled close to his side. Spock's arms remained around T'Remberale and her daughter, the shock on his face apparent. He knew where he was, but still could not move. T'Ra stirred, and took up for him.

"There was another one of us," she said. "Another Vulcan."

Lieutenant Kyle shook his head. "All the living humanoids around your coordinates were beamed aboard."

Spock hung his head, looking devastated. The two Vulcan women by his side were still as statues, leaning on the strong frame of the First Officer. Everything had happened so fast. Now that he had time to process the loss - and the futility of T'Remberale's sacrifice - he could not help but feel despair.

"Captain," Scotty said once Kirk pulled himself to his feet.

"Tell Uhura to call the Starbase and sweep the area around T'Remberale's house," Kirk said before Scotty could say anything else. "How did you save the ship?"

"Trust me, sir, if I knew, I'd tell you," Scotty said. "Whatever was tearing us apart...just stopped. We managed to get Amara's ship in a tractor beam when we got controls back. The craft should be in the shuttle bay right now."

Spock got to his feet as fast as his hangers-on would allow. He led them in the direction on the engineer. He hesitated to set them free due to the deep grief still flowing into him through their touch.

"Mr. Scott, please escort these ladies to the guest quarters. They have had...quite an ordeal."

"So have you, sir."

Spock nodded in acknowledgement, and looked to the captain. They regarded each other with well-known expressions. Neither knew Strom well, but Spock saw the love T'Remberale had for him. He might not have been at his best in the brief time they knew him, but they knew a good man was lost. All of the people lost during their mission had been good, and did not deserve their fate. The pair left the transporter room, only allowing seconds to share grief. As with every tragic mission, they had a job to do and a veneer to maintain.

At the shuttle bay, a team of five security officers armed with phasers surrounded the craft. A makeshift hanger had been put in place to support the ship, but it was not a correct fit. Neither Kirk nor Spock cared about maintaining the ship's dignity, so this was not a concern. After months of searching fruitlessly, they had their prize.

"How do we get inside, sir?" One of the officers asked.

T'Ra flew to the hanger and inspected the bottom. Her sensitive eyes located a small lever, which was hidden from view and labeled with Xarth characters. Based on the location, Spock deduced it was an emergency override. With her beak, T'Ra pulled the lever. Near the apex of the ship, a rectangular opening appeared. Kirk and Spock raced towards it, hearts hammering in their chests.

Spock climbed in first, and emerged in what looked like the bridge. He gulped once he saw the dead body of Dr. Weinburg in the corner, his chest soaked with red blood. He visually scanned the bridge and saw no sign of Amara or Leonard. Only Xarth men slumped in chairs after having returned to their comas.

The archway was the only clear exit from the bridge, so Spock darted toward it with T'Ra flying ahead. The first room he saw had a traditional door which was wide open. The sight that welcomed him was Amara hanging dead from the ceiling - a black belt around her neck. Behind her, lying on a couch, was Leauna.

Spock clenched his fists trying to contain his emotions. His Vulcan heart knew he should mourn the loss of any sentient life, so he compromised between his two halves and pretended like the body did not exist. At long last, the daemon was in his reach, so he directed the positive feelings toward this fact. Leauna was still intact, although unconscious. Moving further into the room, McCoy became visible. He was propped on a wall, staggering like he was drunk. His belt was missing, but his condition was otherwise unchanged. T'Ra flew over to him at once, and Spock was not far behind.

"Leonard?" Spock said soothingly. He placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, and used the other to gently stroke his cheek. The doctor did not answer, but his steady breath was enough. Spock pulled McCoy's body to him, uncaring about who was watching or how this might look.

"I thought I had lost you," Spock said into McCoy's hair. The other man did not say anything, nor did he return the gesture. He was tempted to meld with McCoy immediately to reconstitute the link, but that would be unwise until the condition of the human's mind was determined.

"Spock," Kirk said from behind him. He looked to see the captain cradling Leauna in his arms. Kirk knelt beside the pair, and Spock reluctantly distanced himself. This reunion had waited long enough.

Kirk placed Leauna in McCoy's lap, and immediately she began to stir. Her nose reached outward, blindly searching for something Spock could not identify. When she touched Leonard's limp hand, she relaxed, finally having found her prize. The touch injected some life into the limb. The hand glided up the snout and over the daemon's head. McCoy's other arm lifted to curl around Leauna's body as he leaned forward, curling his whole body around her. The look in his deep blue eyes did not indicate recognition, but the immediate relaxation in his face at least showed something had been made right.

Kirk and Spock looked at each other. While touched and consoled, they both knew this was still not a time for celebration. More had to be done to make McCoy complete.


	15. Chapter 15

"Captain," came a weak female voice from the doorway.

Kirk and Spock had been sitting in the same spot for almost ten minutes, unwilling to disturb McCoy and Leauna. Kirk knew only a true touch would be meaningful, but this was still a victory in his mind. Security was sweeping the ship, so he expected to be disturbed at some point. Amara's body had already been removed, and the room had been inspected for any hidden threats which could have been smuggled aboard. What he did not expect was T'Remberale.

Kirk stood. "You didn't have to come here." He said with compassion.

"I will not be able to live with myself if I do not do something to help," T'Remberale replied, her voice barely audible. She already had bags under her eyes and was standing on shaky limbs. "T'Luminar has asked to not be around me, and I understand why. I cannot help but feel responsible."

Kirk shook his head. Yes, part of him did blame this Vulcan, but he knew she had suffered enough. He was sure Spock felt similar. After all she had been through, her bondmate still died, and the sacrifice had been for naught. She had to be devastated. Yet, if Kirk had learned anything about Vulcans in his years of friendship with Spock, the best way they had of coping with tragedy was to work themselves to the bone.

"I would like to offer my services to Dr. McCoy," she said. "I was not lying before. I had been working on ways to help both him and the colonists. I would not have contacted you at that point had I not been forced since my work was not complete. I now I feel I need to use the information I have no matter how incomplete. I can feel Leonard's condition. He is dying."

Kirk gulped. "How do you know this?"

T'Remberale pursed her lips before speaking. "Think of it like an old Terran automobile. If something became stuck in the engine, or a part broke, there would be loud noises indicating the distress. Such is the case with Leonard's mind, only the noise is a cacophony of psychic energy. He has been damaged so many times in such a short period, the dissonance is quite apparent. It will not be long before it ceases to function."

"I can feel it, too," Spock said, still at McCoy's side.

"I would suggest reconstituting a link with him so we can have more time to find a solution. I will warn you, though, even with a telepathic link, he will need to be reunited with his daemon for the mind to fully heal."

"I was afraid that...his mind was too weak."

T'Remberale knelt beside her friend. "Consider it the lesser of two evils. Yes, melding with a damaged mind is not ideal, but it will allow us an opening to make initial repairs so he can survive in the interim."

Spock hung his head. He looked so lost, yet a small glimmer came to his eyes. Kirk had not seen it in a while, and it brought him comfort.

"So, you do think it is possible to reunite Leonard with his soul?"

"I know it is possible."

The simple statement caused Kirk to almost leap with joy. Aesina did it for him.

T'Remberale continued, "Do not celebrate yet. Vulcans have united the soul and the body before, but it is an incredibly difficult process. The human katra adds even more complications because of the external nature and added sentience. I carry a collective memory of my ancestors who have performed such procedures. Thanks to my research, I am close to fashioning a fal-tor-pan for humans."

"How close?" Kirk asked.

"This discussion will take place after Spock links with Leonard."

Spock nodded in agreement, and scooted close to the other man, whose position had not changed. On McCoy's face, Kirk swore he saw disappointment, as if he expected the touch between him and Leauna would magically regrow the bond. If only it were that simple, so much pain could have been avoided.

Spock touched McCoy's meld points, but almost immediately jerked backward. T'Ra let out a rare screech.

"What happened?" Kirk asked, concerned.

"He...rejected me." The voice sounded so small and disoriented. Kirk's heart broke for him.

"That makes no sense," the captain protested, although he could not help but recall one of the last conversations he had with his First Officer before their capture. Based on the look of Spock's face, he had as well. Even his daemon, who had previously confessed to having no doubts, was looking frightened.

Kirk tried to make sense of what his friend had said. In McCoy's current state, he should not be able to reject any mind touch. Then again, he had never encountered a situation like this. McCoy should not have rejected Spock if he was trying to help. McCoy loved Spock. He saw it in the doctor's eyes when he reached a state of near-normal. There was no way such a thing could be bad. Or was there? Could his romantic nature have clouded his judgement? Now that Leauna was back, could McCoy be starting to resent his dependence on Spock?

T'Remberale touched Spock's shoulder and said nothing. She then initiated her own meld with McCoy. She did not flinch, and completed her task in seconds.

"Do not think anything of this, Spock," she said. "There are a multitude of reasons this could have happened."

Spock nodded, but did not reply.

"I have initiated a shallow bond. It will not interfere with any link you share with him in the future. However, since I am a stranger, the link will not have much of a holding. As you can see, his condition is very much unchanged. Though my knowledge of human fal-tor-pan is incomplete, it will have to do. I must reunite Leonard and Leauna within the next three days, or the damage will be irreversible."

"Three days?" Kirk asked, feeling incredibly constricted. "That can't be enough time. Healers have been working with the Cerebus II colonists for months."

"They are close to a sweeping solution, but not as close as we need. We must find a way with the resources available, or everything your friend was will be gone."

oOOOo

The observation lounge felt oppressively quiet, even to Spock. He had always enjoyed the calm and serenity the space gave him, yet today the emptiness taunted him. Serenity of mind would help him think clearly, but he had not achieved such a thing since he fell in love with a damaged human. Peace was out of his reach, especially now. Their window of opportunity was shrinking rapidly, and he was unable to reach the mind of his lover.

T'Ra perched silently in Spock's lap. Their conversations were useless now, because they both were in total sync with their feelings and fears. They had been pushed out of McCoy's mind. The rejection hurt more than anything in Spock's memory. He had been blocked from initiating mind contact before, but this had been a violent reaction by comparison. In the physical plane, it would have been like McCoy brandishing a phaser in reaction to an attempted hug. Of course, a mind meld was far more than a hug to humans, but to Vulcans it was the primary way of exchanging intimacies - platonic or not.

"Spock," said T'Remberale from behind him. He moved over on the seat to make room, although all he wanted was to be alone. With McCoy's life slipping away, this would not be possible. Despite the timing, he knew there were subjects which required conversation.

"I am sorry," Spock said, realizing he had not yet acknowledged his friend's loss. "I grieve with thee."

"Thank you," she said, clearly using all her willpower to hold herself together. She had not gone through traditional Vulcan disciplines thanks to her family's insular nature and special training. It was a handicap in times like this.

"I am also sorry for...the circumstances of our parting," he continued. "I should not have been so callous. You were my closest friend, and you deserved better than what I gave you."

T'Remberale was silent, but Spock could not bring himself nor his daemon to look at her. Although this should not have been a fearful prospect, her reaction terrified him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said at last. "I cannot imagine the pressures put on you as a child. It was not until I was older that I realized I pushed you too hard. I did not understand the pervasive Vulcan culture since I was not a part of it. I was not sensitive to what it was like for you to have a daemon in a world full of internal katras. It was not just a question of physicality, but of philosophy. Humans have the luxury of displaying themselves, while Vulcans do not, and those two parts of you were constantly at war."

Spock finally met her gaze. She sat upright as any good Vulcan should, her face a dispassionate mask. Yet her words showed deep sincerity and contrition. Spock's human half wanted badly to offer physical comfort, but their mutual inner turmoil would likely make things worse.

"There are many things I would have done differently," T'Remberale admitted. "Regret is illogical, I know, but unavoidable at moments like this. All I can offer at this moment is to give you back the happiness you deserve - even if I will never have it again."

T'Ra could not stay idle. She hopped to the other Vulcan's side and touched the tip of her beak to her arm. This caused T'Remberale to offer a ghost of a smile.

"I am happy you have found peace with your daemon, Spock," she said. "It appears we have both matured in our time apart. I only hope I can offer this to Leonard."

"I concur," Spock said while accepting his daemon back in his lap. "Have your meditations been productive?"

"Yes. I now have a good enough picture of McCoy's mind to reinstitute the connection. However, I am having the same problem others are. There is no sufficient energy source to reconstruct a new bond."

Spock blinked and said, "There are many energy sources on the ship."

"This is not the proper type of energy, Spock. I have no ability to manipulate such power into the spiritual energy needed. Even if I thought it were possible, attaining such skills would take years, and there is still no guarantee it would work."

Spock knew she was right. The energy housed within the bond had no real equivalent elsewhere. It could easily be converted into proper force for mechanical purposes, but the opposite was not true. The only way they could construct a new bond was to...use the mental energy of another.

He wanted badly to stop the thought processes which began with the simple fact. Once he allowed the scenario to play out in his head, he was convinced it was the only way. Yet he could not do it.

/Spock,/ T'Ra's voice said, trying to be comforting. She had followed the exact process he did. She knew what he was thinking. Spock somehow expected betrayal at him even entertaining the idea, but all he received was understanding. He should not have expected any less.

/You know this is the only solid idea we have right now./

/No./ Spock said vehemently. /I cannot lose you. I will not. I have worked too hard to keep you./

/You will not lose me. The fal-tor-pan will simply bring me into you, freeing up your spiritual energy to give to Leonard. You will not experience the same consequences as an intercission./

/But I will be losing you. You will simply be a force within me. You will not be T'Ra any longer. It is illogical to destroy one bond to create another. As humans would say, it is a zero sum game./

/Spock, you and I both know this is not true. For one thing, Vulcans have the ability to live without the external soul, while humans cannot. They do not have the capacity to take it within themselves. McCoy needs Leauna. You do not need me./

/That is not true./ Spock's eyes were starting to water at this point. Right now, nothing existed but himself and his daemon. /I...need you more than I can describe./

/Again, you will not lose me./

/What if Leonard has decided we have taken advantage of him? This would be further confirmation. What if he rejects us after all of this?/

/Does it matter?/

Spock's breath caught when he realized it did not. Even if he never saw McCoy again, he would still move heaven and earth to save him - just like Kirk said he would.

/Jim was right after all,/ T'Ra continued. /Love is a strong motivator./

/Stop being glib. You do not realize what you are saying. You will no longer exist as you do now./

/I know what I am saying. I do not care. You will exist. Leonard will exist./

/T'Ra.../ Spock held her close, hugging her in a way he always wanted to, but never dared for fear of appearing too human. Now, he would give up all his Vulcan nature to stay like this forever. Yes, regret was illogical, but he felt it full force now. He should have never rejected T'Ra. He should have been proud of his humanity, yet he treated her like an enigma for much of their life. He would have given anything to have that time back.

Then there was Leonard. Spock knew this was the only way, and that there would be no McCoy without Leauna. Spock could exist without T'Ra, even though it was now the last thing he wanted to do. He had dreams of T'Ra and Leauna touching as he and McCoy made love. This completion made human intercourse complete. Fate seemed to have other plans for them. Humans said there was no greater love than to give one's life for a friend - or in this case a lover. Spock's love for McCoy was about to be tested.

/Spock,/ she said, allowing emotion to flow between them at a rapid pace.

/Do not say anything,/ Spock whispered. /You are right. You are not leaving me. You are becoming a part of me./

/So...it is decided?/

Spock had never wanted to curse the universe more than now. This should not have to happen. This choice should not have to be thrust upon him.

/Or you could look at it this way,/ T'Ra said. /The forces which control the universe saw fit to place Leonard within the path of a Vulcan-human hybrid, allowing him access to the once thing which could safely restore his bond./

/Such perspective is difficult right now./

/I know, but it is necessary./

"Necessary," Spock said out loud. He hated that word more than any other, especially now. It had been the justification for every insult, dirty look, and misery pushed upon him in the name of tradition and logic.

"Are you alright?" T'Remberale asked feebly.

Spock was startled and was suddenly embarrassed that he had forgotten her presence. He wiped the wetness from his face and schooled himself.

"T'Rem," Spock said slowly. He felt like every word - every syllable - of what he was about to say would be a struggle. He held T'Ra close to him.

"Could you...transfer the energy from my bond with T'Ra?"

T'Remberale could not hide her reaction. "Spock. That is not sensical. The bond would be destroyed. I refuse to trade your life for his."

"Not if you perform a simultaneous fal-tor-pan on...myself."

Realization dawned in T'Remberale's eyes. She immediately let her Vulcan posture go and slumped on the couch, much like she used to as a younger woman.

"I admit, I can see no other option, but..."

"Then we must perform the ritual as soon as possible."

"Wait, Spock. You must consider this. There is no certainty this will work."

"I am aware, but doing nothing will bring about a certainty I find unacceptable."

"But...Spock. T'Ra..."

"I have made my choice," Spock insisted, knowing he could not leave any time to change his mind. "I am aware you would like to ask Leonard's opinion, but he is incapacitated."

"What about your captain?"

Spock knew what Jim would say, and he would likely go so far as to make it an order for the ritual to not take place.

"Jim will not know until after we have restored Leonard."

"Spock, please..."

At this, T'Ra chimed in. "T'Rem, this was a mutual decision. We know the consequences. We are fully prepared to accept them."

Knowing Spock's stubbornness better than most, she nodded. There would be no fighting with him when he was this determined.

"Then we must begin as soon as possible," Spock said.

oOOOo

Jim was told they were preparing an experimental ritual, but they did not go into the details. Spock was pained at having to withhold the truth from his friend, especially with all he had done for them. The same pain came when the captain was told he could not participate or be with Leonard. Kirk did not protest, though. He put his full faith in the pair and wished them Godspeed.

Within the hour, McCoy had been transferred from his room in sickbay to his own quarters. T'Remberale wanted the surroundings to be as familiar as possible when he came to. They lay him on the bed with Leauna resting over his heart.

Spock shivered as T'Rem meditated in preparation for the ritual. His mental anguish was likely not helping her concentration, though. T'Ra was still in his arms, close to his chest as possible. Though the Vulcan heart was closer to his side, there was still a strange comfort in holding her in that spot. Maybe it was because his mother had done so, or because it was the logical place for a daemon to go when being held.

It was not easy to hold her in such a way. Teresh-ka birds did not lend themselves to being cuddled like a selat or a tribble. Still, her softness and loving energy made up for it. Spock tried to commit to memory every sensation between them, and gathered T'Ra's separate memories into his own.

"Spock," said T'Remberale while beckoning him to come closer. His advance resembled a walk to the gallows.

No words were exchanged. None were needed.

T'Rem had Spock sit in a chair next to the bed with enough space between for her to stand on the middle.

"Is there anything you would like to do before we begin?"

T'Ra flew from Spock's arms, causing him to emit an un-Vulcanlike whimper. She landed next to the sedated McCoy, whose eyes were closed and arms were placed carefully around the undersized deer atop him. T'Ra closed her eyes and nuzzled the his face. She then turned to Leauna and did the same. Spock's heart sank that the two daemons would never meet as lovers, no matter how this turned out.

Spock rose and rubbed one of Leauna's ears, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head. He then turned to Leonard, whose expressivity and beauty astonished him even now. He placed kisses on his lips, cheeks and eyelids. He savored these touches, because he could not be sure if he would experience anything the same way without T'Ra.

"I love you, my ashayam," Spock whispered. "No matter what happens, that will never change." He then grabbed T'Ra and sat down on the chair, knowing any further delay would only torture him further.

T'Remberale did not waste any time. She placed her hands on both Spock's meld points and McCoy's. She had explained earlier that Spock would need to get a mental hold on the bond's power to make sure it came through the psychic connection. The energy would then go through T'Rem and into McCoy where she would then forge the bond between man and daemon - at least if all went well.

Spock did his part as he felt T'Remberale enter his mind. The touch was gentle and careful, but Spock answered with urgency. He was fully prepared to pour himself completely into the process, but his friend stopped him. Instead, she drew one of his surface memories and enveloped his consciousness in it. His method was used by some healers as a form is anesthesia for the mind. Spock insisted he could help, and did not need any coddling, but he was ignored. T'Rem insisted she had a handle on his bond, and he did not need to see the process.

In the midst of protesting, Spock was pulled into the memory of him and his mother sitting in his dark bedroom. He knew this day well. It was a week after he and T'Rem had fought in the garden. Amanda had pulled him aside to speak with him privately.

Bayanai normally did not sit so prominently on Amanda, but today he was perched on her shoulder, standing upright on two legs. T'Ra, in contrast, stood at Spock's feet while looking at the floor.

"Spock?" She said, leaning forward. "Are you ashamed of me?"

The younger man's face twitched. "I...no, Mother. Of course not."

"Than why are you so dismissive of T'Ra?"

"I am not..." The younger Spock felt shame course through him at his outburst. He had to gain control. "T'Ra cannot be by my side any longer. I have chosen a Vulcan life, and she cannot be a part of it. This is not a rejection of you. I do not understand why you insist on taking this personally."

"I cannot help but take it personally, Spock."

"I assumed you and Father were in agreement on this course of action."

"We are, but not in the way you have come to understand," Amanda said, taking her son's hand. "Your father cannot admit it, but he does not want you to give up your daemon."

Spock furrowed his brow in confusion. "Then...why?"

"He might not like it, but it is necessary. He does not want you to be in pain while following the Vulcan way. I, however, know you will be in far more pain if you continue on this path."

/T'Rem! Stop trying to change my mind!/ Spock called from within his mind. /What good will this do?/

He was ignored. Seeing no other choice, Spock continued watching.

"This path is the Vulcan way," Spock responded mechanically.

"I know how important it is to you to be Vulcan, and you are more Vulcan than any of those boys who insult you. You are brave and smart, and you will be the finest man on this planet. You achieved this with a daemon by your side. Under the principles of IDIC, this should be celebrated rather than feared."

"You are sounding much like T'Remberale," Spock said softly.

"She is a wise young woman," Amanda replied. "Her mother tells me you have been meditating together. You have been exploring your own katra. Tell me, what have you seen?"

Young Spock hesitated. "I...saw...the other half of myself. I felt the answers I had been searching for were finally at my fingertips."

At his feet, T'Ra stirred and looked up at her parent. Amanda beamed at her son. She did not expect such a straightforward answer.

"That is...wonderful."

"It is illogical," Spock growled. "It is not the job of sentient beings to find fulfillment in such ways."

"It might not be logical, but..."

/Goodbye, Spock./

The small voice shocked Spock out of the memory.

/T'Ra, do not go yet, please./

No response came.

The meld released and Spock found his arms empty and still warm from their previous occupant. He looked around himself, and saw nothing. His immediate perimeter was bare. T'Ra was gone.

T'Rem now had one hand on Leauna, and the other on McCoy's meld points. Her face indicated distress, and her posture was slumped in exhaustion. Spock wanted badly to help her, but felt paralyzed. Any move might cause his entire being to shatter. His constant was gone. Everything felt wrong. Yet, his mind was functioning normally. His body processes were unchanged. The only difference was that he was alone.

The air buzzed with electricity. For a moment, Spock worried the energy did not transfer but was lost. Then, he saw what could only be described as pure light ignite underneath Leauna. Sparkling tendrils streamed forth from the daemon, and meet with the much thicker streams from McCoy's heart. They entwined and curled together, like water flowing through a riverbed. There were frays to the energy, but they appeared to quickly correct themselves.

Spock saw T'Rem begin to waver on her feet, so he quickly left his chair and pushed it underneath her, all while remaining fixated on the strange sight before him. Psychic energy was supposed to be invisible, having been made of some of the most basic particles on the known universe.

No, this was not to be analyzed logically. This was beautiful, just like his lover. Spock let his thoughts stray in the esoteric direction, but stopped when he thought of T'Ra. He had inadvertently placed a bulwark around these emotions. He had not automatically done such a thing in years. Releasing those emotions were not an option. Not now.

T'Rem had finally completed her work, and collapsed in the chair. She was now pale and sweat poured down her face. The light had retreated, and McCoy lay as he had before, except with a smile on his face.

Spock immediately grabbed McCoy's hand and kissed, partly out of relief, but secretly he wanted to know he still could feel for this man. Thankfully, the sensation of the cool hand in his caused the familiar spark in his skin. He still loved McCoy, and wanted to be with him more than anything. Through the touch, he knew his mind had stabilized, and was slowly healing itself. True healing would only occur once man and daemon awoke and got to know each other again, but this was a promising start.

After months of hardship, they had achieved the impossible. McCoy was whole.

Spock's hand automatically went toward Leauna, longing for as much contact as he could get. As his fingertips brushed her fur, he stopped. The thrumming power was too much for him, as it reminded him of what he had lost. His mental walls proved to be more flimsy than assumed, because emotions swept over Spock in a flash. His limbs could no longer support him and he collapsed to the ground. The sobs came suddenly, and became so violent he was powerless to stop them. He soon felt a slight hand on his shoulder, but such comfort was useless to him. He needed the real thing, but he would never have it again.

Shoving T'Rem away, Spock clumsily got to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom. The last thing he wanted was to be solitary right now, but he wanted the pathetic attempts at comfort even less.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: There will be a tiny bit of social work preaching in this chapter, so I apologize in advance for that. I also apologize for what will be happening after.

* * *

The Admirality saw fit to lighten Kirk's work load after his close call with the Romulans. All of the soldiers had been captured and put into Federation custody. The Olomite sword and the guillotine were poised to be destroyed, and any item made of the rare metal was now considered illegal.

The one problem nagging at the captain's mind was what was found on the Romulan shuttle hidden on the planet - or rather what was not found. The comm logs had no method of recording what transmissions had been relayed, although Uhura did tinker and discover there had been calls to Romulus while he and Spock had been in captivity. There was no proof the vigilantes were in employee of the Empire, and all of them claimed to have acted as free agents. Still, Kirk worried that the horrible methods Amara discovered were now in the hands of one of the Federation's worst enemies. If such a thing happened, there would be no way of knowing until the technology was used.

As the brass had told him, there was nothing to be done but keep eyes out and prepare for the worst. He had been commended for his actions, and was urged to stay in touch about Dr. McCoy. The surviving colonists appeared to be out of the woods where their lives were concerned, but the desire to heal them still remained. Anyone who had seen the lifeless faces knew simply keeping them alive was not an option. Whatever T'Remberale was planning for McCoy, it was the last hope for over a dozen innocent people.

Right now, the captain had other things on his mind. He was disappointed when T'Remberale told him he could not be there for his friend, but her reasoning was sound. Then again, she was being mysterious, as was Spock. When Vulcans were mysterious, there was reason to worry.

"I wish I could trust them, but I can't," Aesina's muffled voice said.

Aesina's small body had been on his shoulder with her nose buried in Kirk's hair. In turn, he was massaging her back. He did not want the contact to break, but knew he had to appear like a captain while having this vid meeting. It could not wait any longer. She hopped to his desk and crouched.

"Lieutenant," Kirk said through his comm panel. "Is King Achban ready for me?"

Uhura uttered an affirmative and patched him through. Kirk steeled himself and tried to school his emotions before talking to the king of Amara's home world. He knew the temptation to break the Prime Directive would be great.

"Technically, our diplomats are already breaking the Prime Directive," Aesina said. "The Xarth are the ones desperate to get into the Federation."

Kirk smiled. She was right, and he knew this. He wanted badly to follow Starfleet ideals, and hopefully his playing with the limits of their highest order would continue that tradition, no matter how backwards it sounded on paper.

"Captain Kirk," King Achban said once his link came through.

The captain could barely make out the man in the screen since he seemed to be sitting in a dark room. In addition, his voice was shivering. From what he could make out of the man's appearance, his robes were wrapped around him tight, obviously in an attempt to keep warm. Xarth's winter must have been approaching.

"Your Highness," Kirk said, bowing his head. "I wanted to inform you personally that Lady Amara has died, and the in-firmed men she captured will be sent back to you immediately."

Tension seemed to drain from Achban's body. "Thank you, captain. It is welcome news she will not be able to harm our citizens anymore. I am truly sorry for what she has done to you. From what I heard, she had tried to kill you."

Kirk nodded. "Yes, more than once. She committed the worst crime imaginable against humans."

"I am aware, and I do know she would have brought the idea back with her to present to our citizens. Due to our predicament, I am sure she would have received some support."

"That is another thing I wanted to speak with you about," Kirk said. "Starfleet had offered to help convert your energy plants to use dilithium. This should help you get your fleet back in order, and help build the infrastructure."

"Captain, I am indeed grateful for this, but such resources will be expensive, particularly if we are trading with off-worlders. It will also be a temporary solution. This is why I have attempted to join with your Federation."

/Here we go,/ Aesina said.

"The first two shipments will be complementary, Your Highness."

"Captain, you know our culture. Accepting such a generous gift is not acceptable to us. We must have something we could give back, and a way for change to remain sustainable. We cannot survive off charity."

"You're correct, we do not have the resources to give you these materials indefinitely, especially if it will be best used by every Xarth citizen."

The king stiffened. "I know what you are implying, Captain. You are out of line."

"Am I? One of the citizens you discarded killed a dozen humans and mutilated a dozen more to prove she was somebody. I think this reveals a flaw in your system."

"I find your explanation to be convenient for your point of view, despite their being no way to know her motivations."

"Once I read up on how you treat the least among you, it was not hard to figure out."

"Amara only did this because her power made her unbalanced. She made her choices. It had nothing to do with her circumstance. She knew why our system worked the way it did."

Kirk fought the urge to let out a sigh. One of the downsides of diplomacy was that some people proved themselves to be broken records. "Amara was a pariah from the day she was born. She could have been something great if you had just respected her difference, but you made her less than Xarth. The same is true of all your untouchables."

Achban rose from his throne. "Or system is just! There are choices they can make to become part of our society, but they chose not to do them. They all have the ability, but not the willingness."

Kirk squared his jaw. "I admit humans are not perfect, but one thing we did right was discover the answer to poverty is not so simple as you describe. You are so enmeshed in your society and how everything works, you missed what you are really doing to these people, just like you missed how limited your Xarthonium was until it was too late to change the infrastructure. You act like the people you are throwing out of your cities and families are simply criminals and vagrants who chose their lot in life. This cannot be farther from the truth. People like Amara who do not fit into your predetermined mold are excluded because it is easier to keep your society homogenous than it is to make room for all. I understand this sentiment, but that does not make it right."

"How can you be so sympathetic toward Amara, after all the horrible things she has done?"

"Amara has done horrible things, but I blame her circumstance as much as I blame her. Yes, she had a choice, but desperation makes those choices extremely limited."

Achban's sat down hard. "I do not need you to lecture me about my kingdom, Captain. Especially when you do not live here. Your Federation claims to respect all cultures, and yet you treat our customs like they are dirt. If you had any principles at all, you would support our entrance into the Federation. Do you believe your own Prime Directive or not?"

/Jim! McCoy.../

Aesina's internal voice caused Kirk's heart to skip a beat. She had sensed subtle changes in the atmosphere which could mean something significant had happened with regard to the ritual. He clenched his fists in frustration that he was stuck in a fruitless conversation with a clueless king rather than being able to sprint down the hall and see his friend. He had wanted Bones and Spock to be together in all ways that mattered, because everyone deserved such a connection, including Amara.

"I do believe in the Prime Directive, but the Federation has rules of its own, one being no caste systems."

"This is not a caste system!" Achban shouted, slamming down his fist. "Your Federation is doing the very thing you claim we are doing. If we were not so desperate, I would reject your humanitarian offer outright. It is clear what you think of our 'primitive' ways."

"In a way you're right, Your Highness," Kirk said. "However, we are quite proud to discriminate against laws which do not respect life in all its forms. This is the ultimate goal of every race to accept the infinite diversity, and shirk those who would disrespect it. We cannot have you in our Federation right now, but not because you yourself are flawed. It is because you create flaws in others. We cannot justify the degradation of sentient beings. This view does not deserve our acceptance or even our tolerance. Now, if you excuse me, I have business to attend to. There will be Starfleet officers contacting you within the week."

Achban's sighed, revealing a new weariness about him. Kirk did feel sorry for him. This was not an unintelligent man, and he truly wanted to do what was best for his people. Too bad it was only people who resembled himself that he cared about, rather than those who were harder to deal with. There must be some part of him which knew this was wrong, but until that part came out, Kirk was helpless to watch his world continue to deteriorate.

"Safe travels, Captain," Achban's said, still showing anger in his voice. He clearly still wanted to argue, but his wisdom showed through his restraint.

The second the link disconnected, Kirk was out of his seat and swiftly walking down the hall. His haste was so great, he almost let the door close on Aesina's tail. She did manage to catch up and jump on his shoulder.

He nearly ran into the door before he realized the light indicating 'no entry' was on. He keyed in his command override and walked in. Kirk was met with T'Remberale meditating silently in the couch, and McCoy on the bed sleeping on his side with Leauna wrapped in his arms. He looked around for Spock, who he expected to be glued to McCoy's bedside. There was no sign of him. Kirk knew he should not disturb T'Rem while meditating, even though not knowing the outcome of the ritual was eating at him.

McCoy groaned in his slumber, and Kirk raced to his bedside, hoping he would be stirring soon. He felt every effort and hardship they had gone through would be somehow justified in the next few minutes. Yet, he was distracted by Spock's absence. It made no sense he was not here.

oOOOo

Mentally, something clicked. The dreams stopped being abstract and meaningless and finally started to organize. There were colors and shapes and words cutting through the fog. An elation followed, as a baby who had just taken his first steps, or a child who rode a bicycle without training wheels.

He knew it had been a long time since he had coherent thought, and much had happened to him during this time. He could not recall exactly what transpired, but intense isolation was the primary memory for most of that time.

/Len, oh my God. I can feel you./

Leauna? Could it really be true? Was the fear of watching the guillotine blade falling for naught? Had he been saved after all?

No. He had not been saved, but Leauna was with him. Even in the depths of unconsciousness, she was there. He had come home.

He forced himself awake, his eyes immediately regretting the quick transition from a REM cycle. His old bones felt every bit of their fifty years at that moment, and yet he could not remember feeling more alive.

"Bones?"

Jim's voice was there, of course, but he was not who he wanted to see. Although his recollection was vague, he knew Jim was by his side during his "foggy time." There was another he needed to see.

"Len," he heard inches from his ear. He got enough awareness to realize in his arms lay a form more familiar to him than his own face. Not only did short fur scratch at his arms, but a deep connection bridged the nonexistent distance between their bodies. Every sensation and feeling were shared between, just as humans and souls should be.

McCoy surged with energy and squeezed Leauna so tight he would have choked her if she were an actual animal.

"'Auna! Oh my God. I can't believe this. Oh thank the Lord. You came back to me."

"I can't believe I lost you! I will never let that happen again!"

Man and daemon shouted nothing phrases simultaneously, unable to contain their joy at being touched in such ways. They rolled over the bed, engaging in horseplay much like in their younger years. They enjoyed this moment, vowing to never take their togetherness for granted again.

"Bones!" Jim called again, happiness apparent in his voice. McCoy looked up at him, grin splitting his face. He had no qualms about physically parting with Leauna, because now they felt each other always. McCoy felt fine leaping toward Jim and enveloping him in a hug, savoring the feeling if truly connecting with another. Kirk returned the fierce embrace while both their daemons met on the floor, leaping and playing with each other. Aesina had a much easer time because of her form, but Leauna was content to have the monkey bounce on her back.

"Shit, Bones," Kirk said, tearing up and unwilling to let his friend go. "I can't believe your back!"

"Me either," McCoy laughed, breaking the hug and squeezing Kirk's arms. "How did you do it? How did I get her back?"

"I'm not sure yet," Kirk admitted. "I still haven't talked to Spock, and T'Remberale is meditating."

"Spock?" McCoy said, touched. "Well, it looks the hobgoblin's Vulcan voodoo was good for something after all. Who's T'...that other one?"

Kirk's face fell slightly, which confused McCoy.

"How much do you remember about the past few months, Bones?" Kirk asked.

The question was heavy. Something major must have happened. McCoy's mood was still in the stratosphere, but it was brought down a peg.

"Not much," he replied honestly. "I know I didn't have Leauna for a long time, and I felt pretty much like a sack of potatoes. I don't really have any details, though."

Now Kirk looked even worse.

"What is it? Did I decide to invest in the Orion slave trade during my incapacity?"

He asked it jokingly, although he knew it was not very funny. McCoy was desperate to keep his mood high. His daemon was part of him again and all should be right with the world.

"Nothing, Bones," Kirk said, squeezing the shoulders opposite him.

A sound which resembled human nasal distress came from the direction of the bathroom. Despite the jubilation of the past few minutes, they all heard it.

"That sounded like Spock," McCoy said, allowing his grin to grow. "Sounds like he has a Vulcan cold."

"I guess it had something to do with the ritual. I can't imagine it was an easy process."

"I don't care how hard it was, Jim. If what you say is true, I owe him a bit of thanks."

"Wait," Kirk said, blocking his way.

"Hey, what gives?" Leauna said, Aesina still on her back.

"He might not be ready to talk to you right now," she said. "Maybe you should talk to the rest of the crew first. I mean, that doesn't sound like a sound Spock normally makes. He might not want to be seen right now. Whatever he helped do might have taken a toll on him."

"I've never known him to meditate in the bathroom, so you must be right," McCoy said with a laugh. He looked past the partition to the living area to spot the female Vulcan sitting still as a statue. "Is that T'Rem...whatever?"

"Yes, that's her."

"Well, I guess I should wait until the Vulcans come back to reality to thank them, not that they'll accept it. God Almighty, I never thought Spock had it in him."

Again, Kirk's face fell. McCoy would have to get to the bottom of whatever was bugging him later. Obviously something had happened while he had no soul. He could not imagine what, though. He should not have been capable of speaking Standard, let alone participating in any important developments.

"I'll see to telling the crew, Jim, while you see to Spock. However, I expect a full celebration later, and our green-blooded hero's gonna come whether he wants to or not."

Kirk nodded as McCoy sprinted to the door. He had never felt so glad to be human - to feel human. It was a rush he wanted to share with the world. He looked to his best friend with a glowing expression. He looked tired and worn out. Knowing Kirk, he was suffering right alongside him.

"It's okay, Jim," McCoy said. "Everything's okay now."

Kirk knew he should not have reacted so obviously downcast when McCoy brought up his lack of memory. He should have been supporting his friend now that he was finally whole again. Kirk did not use the term 'miracle' often, but in this case it was appropriate. McCoy being returned to him was nothing short of a miracle.

Yet, as with every good thing given to them, there would be a downside. McCoy clearly did not recall the past months after his intercission. While a vast majority of that time was worth forgetting, the latter weeks were not. Spock had made Herculean strides by sharing himself with another. He was already shaken enough by McCoy's rejection of the meld. Based on what he had heard from the bathroom, there was already a great deal of pain. Kirk knew the secrecy meant the ritual would not be a process free of consequences, he just hoped they were not far-reaching.

Kirk went to the bathroom door and gently knocked.

"Do not come in here, Jim," snapped Spock.

Immediately, Kirk's heart clenched. His friend had never spoken to him in such a curt manner, even while in great pain.

"Spock," Kirk said. "McCoy is okay. Whatever you and T'Rem did, it worked."

Silence.

"Spock, this is good news. What's the matter? Do you need anything?"

"I need nothing. Please leave."

Kirk sighed. That settled it. Not only was Spock acting incredibly unVulcan, but he was isolating himself. Damned if he was not going to know what was wrong. Kirk entered to find Spock sitting against the wall with his legs crossed. His breathing was shaky, and his posture indicated an epic internal struggle. The captain had seen his friend reestablishing control before, but it never had been this bad.

Then it hit him. T'Ra was nowhere to be found.

"I told you not to come in here," Spock growled, although he made no effort to expel Kirk.

"Where's T'Ra?" Kirk demanded. Aesina jumped from his shoulder to look in the shower and behind any crevice she could be hiding. She silently told Kirk there was no other daemon in the small space.

"Spock," Aesina said, her body trembling. She stood right in front of the Vulcan, stopping short of touching him. A missing daemon was never a good sign. Combine that with Spock's posture, and they knew they were faced with another potential tragedy. Kirk did not know if he could take anymore of this.

Spock took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Stay away from me Aesina."

"Don't talk to me like that," she replied. "Answer us, please."

"Do not push me, Captain," Spock said through gritted teeth, now looking at Kirk's face. "If you must know, T'Ra is now a Vulcan katra. We needed my external bond's energy to reestablish Leonard's."

Kirk let out a sigh of relief, comforted to know Spock still and his soul. Then trepidation crept up again. Yes, he had a soul, but he did not have a daemon, and now Spock was in a state of deep mourning. His heart broke. This was something no human was meant to go through with a clear head.

Aesina's stance relaxed, and looked up at the Vulcan with soft eyes. She reached out a paw toward him, but it was ignored.

"I will be fine in time, Jim. I just cannot be around Leonard right now. I am in no state, especially since he does not remember our romantic liaison. I will try and seek comfort in him, and he will not be able to reciprocate."

"Don't make light of this, Spock." Kirk said, although other words escaped him. This had been Spock's choice, and what was done was done. No use in lecturing him or finding fixes. His Vulcan friend appeared to have resigned himself to the situation.

"Captain," came T'Remberale's voice from behind him. "You must let Spock regain his..."

"How could you let him do this?" Kirk shouted, staring at the woman with dangerous eyes.

T'Remberale's face did not change. "If you must know, I did try to convince him this was a poor decision, but he insisted. It was difficult for me to find sound logic for my position."

"Fuck logic!" Kirk shouted. "This should not happen. I can't gain one friend back only to lose another."

"Spock is not lost to you! If you cannot accept him with no daemon..."

"Don't twist what I said!"

"Kroyka!" Spock shouted. "I find it distasteful you are talking about me like I am not sitting a meter away, and cannot make choices for myself. I must be alone right now, and I would appreciate if you left me be!" Spock closed his eyes, shutting out both his friends.

Kirk sighed. He still felt wrong leaving Spock here, but he knew a mandate when he heard one. This would not be the end, though. This was still McCoy's quarters. Spock would have to come out sometime.

"T'Rem," Kirk said after the bathroom door closed behind him. "I think it's best you go see your daughter now."

"Captain," she replied. "I know you are used to interfering with things which do not concern you, but I implore you to restrain yourself in this instance."

Again, Kirk felt like he had been slapped. He was only trying to help, not break the Prime Directive. T'Remberale turned and left the room without another word, leaving Kirk alone in the cramped quarters with his thoughts.

"Our interference has not made too much of an impact as of late," Aesina said softly, again nuzzling against Kirk's face.

"I can't just sit back and watch everyone suffer," Kirk replied. "I refuse to. I should have stopped Spock. I should have..."

Tears began to push their way out of Kirk's eyes as the burden of responsibility made itself known. It was one thing when four hundred faceless people depended on you - it was another when your friends were impacted by your mistakes. Feeling all too confined by the room he stood in, he left to find Dr. McCoy. The least he could give the man was a proper celebration.

oOOOo

The entire day had been full of good drinks and even better friends. McCoy had been knocking on doors and telling every senior officer he could find about his good fortune. They all shared in his glee and immediately gathered in the mess hall to give this event the proper gaiety.

Scotty led the drinking festivities, which McCoy suspected was a cathartic experience due to his being in command during the initial intercission. Chapel, M'Benga, and Giotto seemed especially happy for him, and graced him with a great deal of attention. Kirk did eventually show up as well, and joined in the fun with others. The only conspicuous absence was Spock. True, he did not usually participate in parties, but he was still an important part of making this bliss possible.

"I still can't believe it," M'Benga said to him as the spoke separately from everyone else.

"Everyone's telling me that," McCoy said while sipping his drink. "I guess I was pretty bad off."

"Yeah, although you still performed your duties admirably..."

"Hold it," McCoy said, confused. His fingertips had been glued to Leauna's head all night, but now they dug deeper. "I was still working? How is that possible?"

M'Benga's brow furrowed. "You don't remember?"

"The past several months are a blur, Geoff. I assumed it was because there was nothing to remember."

"No. Mr. Spock had melded with you right away. I don't know what he did exactly, but those melds made you function on an almost normal level for the entire time. I actually had to caution you about a week ago that a telepathic link was starting to form."

McCoy's stomach dropped. The idea he survived without Leauna was disturbing to him, and cheapened getting her back. If he was functioning so well, why were all these people so damn happy? This did not make any sense. However, the point he focused on was Spock. Something within him ignited at the idea of the Vulcan melding with him without permission. Did that damn fool Vulcan really take it upon himself to be a daemon replacement? What gave him the right? He hated melds in the first place, and the idea he endured several against his will angered him. Leauna's shaking comforted him that he was not alone in this.

"I'm sorry, Len," M'Benga said sincerely. "I thought you knew."

McCoy had hoped his joy would endure longer than this, but he should have known better. He walked away from his colleague and made a beeline for Jim - his supposed friend. Kirk must have known about what happened, and yet he did not stop it. Kirk was a man with deep moral convictions. When had he become so whipped by his First Officer that he just accepted anything he came up with?

Once he reached Kirk - who was mingling with a young female botanist - he grabbed him my the arm and unceremoniously dragged him into the hall.

"Bones. What the..."

"What the hell, Jim?" McCoy shouted, his arms flying up in the air.

"Bones, I..."

"The melds, Jim!"

Leauna continued, "You let Spock violate Leonard's mind while he was incapacitated. Did you have any inkling if it would be a good idea - of how I would feel?"

Kirk slumped in defeat, Aesina drooping on his shoulder. McCoy was uncaring about his friend's feelings at the moment, especially since his own had been so grossly disregarded.

"How did you hear?" Kirk said, unwilling to look McCoy in the eyes.

"M'Benga thought I remembered," he said. "Were you even planning to tell me?"

"Of course I was planning on telling you, Bones! I wouldn't keep that from you. I just wanted you to enjoy having Leauna back right now."

"So you were patronizing me!"

"Bones," Aesina pleaded. "Calm down! We should go to our quarters to discuss this."

"No, I want to discuss it right here!" McCoy said as he gestured to the empty hallway. "Apparently everyone knows about my life but me, so it shouldn't matter."

"Bones, why are you so upset? Spock saved your life! You would not even have this moment if not for him!"

McCoy was now shaking with rage. "You're justifying this? I could have lived until you found a cure."

"That wasn't a guarantee. We couldn't lose you," Kirk said, now sounded incredibly small.

"We?" McCoy laughed. "So you and Spock were in this together, huh? What did you do, beg him? It must have taken quite a bit since he doesn't give a shit about me."

"He loves you, Bones!" Kirk shouted. His face fell immediately, knowing he said something he should not have. Now Kirk was shaking.

"He...what?" McCoy said. He could not be touched by this. If anything, the fire within him burned hotter. He started putting pieces together from the past few hours. Kirk's words to him. Spock's conspicuous absence. M'Benga's revelation about the telepathic link.

"Jim," Leauna asked. "We're Len and Spock...together while I was gone?"

"Bones," Kirk said, clearly sensing McCoy would not be happy with an affirmative answer. "What's gotten into you? We made it possible for you to be here now!"

"Answer the question!" he shouted, making Aesina flinch.

Kirk sighed. It clearly took every ounce of energy he had to say, "Yes."

McCoy could barely speak. He clenched his fists and looked away from Kirk - the man who had allowed Spock to take complete advantage of him.

"That sick perverted Vulcan," McCoy said, now with tears brimming.

"Jesus, Bones. You know Spock would never..."

"He would, Jim! He did! You let it happen! I had no free choice. Any mental connection with him would have influenced me. He could have dictated any feelings he wanted! Spock isn't stupid! Neither are you! You let that bastard rape me!"

"I would never..."

"How did you know he loved me?" McCoy demanded.

Kirk let out a sound which would have been interpreted as a whimper in another man. "He told me...right after we beamed back from the colony."

"Was this before or after he melded with me?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Yes it does! Before or after?"

Kirk rubbed his face. "Before."

"And you still let him do the meld? I would have had no choice but to love him back, Jim!"

"It wasn't like that! I didn't know he was going to do the melds until they were already done. By then, you were awake and consenting."

"Of course I was consenting! The bastard had me under mind control!"

"Listen to yourself!" Aesina shouted as she leapt onto McCoy's chest. "Do you have any idea what Spock has done for you? What he sacrificed?"

The doctor was initially shocked stiff by Aesina's action, but Leauna stepped in and grabbed the tail with her mouth and pulled the other daemon away.

"He's done quite enough for us, thank you very much," she said with venom in her voice.

"Bones, whatever you think happened...it was never to hurt you."

"It never is, is it?" McCoy replied. "My two best friends violate me in every way possible, and I'm supposed to say thank you because it was done with good intentions? I bet Spock didn't even know how perverted he was until he saw me vulnerable."

"Actually Doctor, Vulcans are incapable of what you are suggesting."

Kirk and McCoy jumped to see Spock standing merely a couple yards away from them, his hands clasped behind his back and his face an impassive mask. The mere sight of him made McCoy want to vomit. The idea he was made to touch that body - to love this pointed eared freak - he could not fathom it. How had he taken this man on as a friend when he did not even respect his rights?

McCoy launched himself at Spock and grabbed fistfuls of his tunic while pinning him against the wall.

"Bones!" Kirk shouted. "Think! Look at Spock! How is he different?"

The words barely registered with the blood pumping in McCoy's head. "You Vulcan bastard, " he growled. "Go ahead. I dare you to recite protocol about assaulting a superior officer, because I really don't give a shit about your rank or even your Vulcan strength right now."

"Leauna," Aesina shouted. "Stop..."

The deer daemon kicked the advancing Aesina in the stomach, throwing her backward and causing Kirk to double over in pain.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Spock? You thought if you made me love you all would be hunky dory?"

"Ask him where T'Ra is!" Aesina shouted.

"Oh will you..." McCoy stopped as he received a signal from Leauna that the was no daemon to be found around Spock. That silver bird whose silence and constant loyalty became part of Spock's person was missing.

"Where is she?" McCoy said to Spock reluctantly. He let none of the anger leave his eyes.

"Gone," Spock said evenly, his eyes unreadable. "She is inside me now. It was the only way to put you back together."

McCoy did not know what they expected him to say to this, but it was nothing compassionate. His anger toward Spock did not abate. There was a strange feeling of déjà vu about the position he was in, but he quickly ignored it.

"That was probably the best thing that ever happened to you, finally rid of that dreaded human half of yours," he said after a moment of contemplation. He let Spock go, uncomfortable with the growing sense of familiarity with his actions. "Look at you. You're not even affected."

"No Bones, he..."

"Jim, I've had enough of you defending him!" He turned back to Spock. "Listen, you slime-blooded bat-boy. I don't know what you were expecting with this shit. I think your guilty conscience got the best of you and you wanted to see if I'd love you back with all my faculties. Well guess what? I don't. I never will. What you did to me was unforgivable, and I have half a mind to turn you in to Starfleet."

Spock was still as a statue. "You...would be well within your rights, Doctor."

"Yeah, but you did give Leauna back, and for that I guess I owe you something. I'm not gonna turn you in, but I don't want to see your stony-eyed face again." He turned to Kirk. "And I hope you have an attitude change soon, or I might have to say the same. I know you're the captain and this might be difficult, but you know I can find a way."

With that, McCoy stomped down the hall back to his own quarters, fuming about how his two best friends could have betrayed him so completely. When he returned to his quarters, T'Remberale was gone, but the scent of Vulcan incense remained. He turned on the fresheners to infuse some lemon into the air, and went to work on the rest of his alcohol stash.

oOOOo

Kirk was left dumbstruck at what had just happened. His heart was already on the verge of breaking after what Spock had given up, now he was questioning every decision he had made with regards to McCoy in the last few months. Had he really been blind? Had Spock's melds really been rape?

The Vulcan himself was standing in the same spot, making no effort to smooth the two wrinkled spots on his tunic. His still had his hands behind his back and stood against the wall. His brown eyes stared unblinking at the floor, his breath barely showing. At the moment he resembled a statue more than a man.

Kirk shook his head in anger. There was no ill intent. Spock made no effort to seduce McCoy. If anything he had tried to prevent him from becoming influenced. Spock had shown the care of a mother to her child, and had no other motives but to keep McCoy alive. He did not know why his friend was acting so violently against what they had done.

"Spock, I..."

"Captain," Spock interrupted. "I think it would be best if you did not associate with me any longer."

Kirk was taken aback. "You can't let what Bones said get to you. He'll remember."

"Dr. McCoy has every right to be upset. We did not ask his consent, nor did he understand what the melds entailed."

"Spock, please don't shut me out. If there was ever a time you needed a friend..."

His First Officer did not let him finish, but walked away briskly in the opposite direction of McCoy - and his own cabin.

Kirk sighed, feeling utterly defeated. Aesina made her way to his arms, cuddling close.


	17. Chapter 17

Here we are at the end! Thank you so much to all who have read and supported this story. It was a real labor of love. I hope to make a sequel at some point (hence the massive hints in the last chapter), but I really need to get some more time first. I encourage you to please share or recommend this story on your Live Journal, Tumbler, etc. if you liked it. I only posted it in a couple places, and I am not sure how else to promote it.

I hope to see you guys again for the next story I post (whatever that might be). I love my readers!

* * *

For the next two weeks, McCoy reluctantly allowed T'Remberale to continue melds to repair any damage not resolved with the original ritual. As McCoy expected, she had been stoic and unemotional the entire time, although somehow that seemed wrong to him. He knew she lost her husband in whatever took place at her house, so that might have been a factor. She also had a daughter who was just starting to speak to her again. The situation was quite close to McCoy's.

He had finally called Joanna to talk about what had happened, and she was predictably upset this was the first time they had talked since the incident. His brush with death led him to overlook some of his ex-wife's influence and just see his daughter for who she was. They had a long conversation, and mended a fence or two along the way.

"Don't forget," McCoy said right before what was to be their final meld. "I don't want the memories."

T'Rem nodded. "You have expressed that before, and I will not break my word."

"Forgive me for not being too trusting of Vulcans right now," McCoy replied. She visibly flinched at this, and he tried to push down irritation. Apparently this woman had been a friend of Spock's, and seemed to be on his side. It seemed like the only one with knowledge of their situation who took up for him was Leauna, and she did not count.

The day after their fight, everyone knew how the new bond had been created. Spock was now a tragic hero around the ship. McCoy tried his best to smile through their gushing, but wanted so badly to come out and tell the implications of the situation. By some miracle, no one had heard the details of their hallway altercation, and McCoy still felt like he owed the Vulcan something, so he kept his mouth shut. Still, it felt like he was alone in his anger. Although Jim had been staying away from Spock and supporting McCoy to his face, he could still tell the captain thought he was overreacting.

He had not seen Spock since the incident. The Vulcan had been doing his job, like he was supposed to, but had been making himself scarce. McCoy liked to think it was because of his warning, but it was likely because he could not stand the sight of other daemons. For some reason, McCoy understood.

The doctor had been getting déjà vu often, but always quashed it. He did not want to remember the last few months. Not only did he not want to know what it was like without a daemon, but he did not want to remember Spock. The heat of his anger had died down a bit, but he still believed what Spock did had been a form of rape. The problem was no one else would see it that way.

The meld was painless and lasted only seconds. Leauna was in his lap the whole time as they sat cross-legged on the floor.

"It appears you are fully healed, Doctor," T'Remberale said as she stood. "I am pleased with your progress. I will be leaving for Vulcan today, but I will find a way to meet you in two months for a follow-up."

McCoy stood to meet her gaze. "Thanks, you know, for everything." He may have been angry at Spock, but this woman had come in late in the process and had helped immensely, despite the tragedy she endured.

"No thanks are necessary. I can only hope my fellow healers will find help for the other colonists without such...sacrifice."

"Yeah. Not too many Vulcans with daemons out there, I reckon."

He reached to shake her hand, but withdrew it quickly before lifting his right hand and shaping it into the ta'al with the left. "Live long and prosper."

She responded in kind. "Peace and long life, Dr. McCoy."

oOOOo

Spock could not bring himself to leave his room that day. He tried so hard to be strong and do copious lab work over the past two weeks, but going out among humans was becoming harder every day. His emotional controls were weakening, and no amount of meditation would stop a final outburst.

McCoy's words had hurt. He now understood the human idiom "heart break," because it felt like something inside shattered when his love told him what they shared had been a lie.

His human side had caused him nothing but pain. If he had internalized T'Ra earlier, he would not be having such a hard time coping. McCoy would not have been hurt, and Spock himself would not be acting so shamefully. Every daemon he saw threatened to bring a new wave of grief. Logically, he should not be so distressed. He did not need a daemon, but he was acting as if his life was no longer viable.

He should not have gotten so deep with McCoy. He should not have melded with him in the first place. There was no guarantee the doctor would have died, and there were some promising results coming from Starbase 5 were the Cerebus II colonists were being held, although there was no cure yet. All of the pain could have been avoided. If he had been a better Vulcan, it would have been.

Now, he was unable to leave his room, afraid he would expose the emotional turmoil he could not calm. His duty as a starship officer was suffering for his incompetence. Why was there this much anguish over a ridiculous pet - one who was not even gone but inside him always? That was all a daemon was to a Vulcan. T'Rem was wrong.

He could not go on like this - on this ship. McCoy wanted nothing to do with him, and associating with Kirk would only drive an unnecessary rift between two friends. Spock wanted nothing more than to grant that wish, because he knew looking on McCoy would not only bring his angry words to the forefront of his mind, but the love they had shared. It was his lapse into unbecoming feelings toward this man which drove him to commit unethical behavior. He had nothing in common with McCoy. Their fights were legendary around the ship. Some of his comments about Vulcans bordered on bigotry. There was no logical reason to be drawn to this man, and yet some strange fancy he did not understand drove him in that direction.

Humans - and their ways - had ruined him.

Spock knew there was no other choice. He went to his console and opened a link to T'Remberale's room in order to inquire if she was still seeking a pilot for her departing shuttle to Vulcan.

oOOOo

Kirk slumped in his chair after a long shift, again missing the face of his First Officer faithfully working at his station. The incident with McCoy was the last time he had seen Spock. Once again, his solid object was gone. Kirk hoped it was not for the remainder of the mission. Although they only had six months left, spending that time without Spock at his side seemed unbearable.

He would never admit this to McCoy, though. He was still angry, but at least he had let the anger mix back in with the joy of having Leauna back. However, their daemons had not touched since those first moments. There was still unease between them, and Kirk did not know if it would ever be healed.

Aesina's sudden disturbance caused Kirk to sit up immediately. She sensed something else in the room with them.

"No need to ruffle your feathers. I'm up here," a deep male voice said from the ceiling. Kirk's eyes shot upward to see a lithe, black snake-like creature with speckles of dark blue covering his body. He could not have been more than a meter long, and had four legs and had a face which reminded him of the Terran Orient's version of a dragon - with long tendrils extending from his nostrils and ears.

"Who are you?" Kirk shouted, his hand on his phaser.

"Please relax, Captain Kirk," he said in a calm voice. "I mean you no harm."

"I'll have to reserve judgement on that," he replied.

The thing crawled across the ceiling and acrobatically floated in the air above Kirk's desk. "I would introduce myself, but I have no name. I am a daemon, or at least a close approximation of one. Every Xarth has a soul which looks like me, only not visible to the naked eye."

Kirk said, "I never heard of such a thing. Only humans are known to have sentient souls."

"Not necessarily. It os just not as obvious. It is barely known even among our people. I belonged to Amara while she was alive."

Kirk immediately tensed.

"Now now, do not jump to conclusions. Amara and I have not been on friendly terms for years, and this is likely why I am able to survive even while she has died."

"I don't think it works like that," Kirk said, wary.

"For humans it doesn't, but for Xarth this is the norm. Most of the time, the souls disperse at death, but in some cases, there are souls which remain intact and continue to roam the planet."

Kirk cautiously returned to his seat. "I don't see how that's possible."

"The ways of the soul are mysterious, but this is not why I am here. I am afraid my time is short, and I owe you a conversation."

Kirk hated the cop out of the "mysteries of the universe," but he held his tongue. The reason he joined Starfleet was to solve the mysteries, and who better than a disembodied soul? Then again, he knew nothing of this being, and trying him might prove unwise. He did not know if this creature had the same powers of Amara, although from his brief interaction, he seemed to have a better head on his shoulders.

"I know this will mean nothing, but I am sorry for the pain Amara had caused. I had tried to speak to her and stop her, but she had none of it."

"I'm afraid an apology is inadequate," Kirk replied. "If what you say is true and you really were separate from her, it does not mean much."

"I know, but I did try and insert myself in the people she controlled. I actually managed to get Dr. Weinburg to free himself long enough to disable the cloaking device. I almost got through to Leauna, but it was not enough."

"Do you expect applause?" Kirk said, letting bitterness seep through.

"No. Amara caused so many people pain. There will be no way to make up for it. I cannot heal the colonists, and I cannot destroy the seed in Dr. McCoy's mind."

"What...seed?"

"Yes. Before she killed herself, Amara placed a seed in Leonard's mind, which would stir a certain reaction to Mr. Spock and the melds they shared. It was a fine piece of revenge."

This made so much sense, it almost made Kirk laugh. He knew there was something off about Bones' behavior. Although McCoy was an emotional man by nature, there was something about his reaction to Spock which did not sit right with Kirk. This situation suddenly had a ray of hope at the end.

"Captain, I must clarify the seed only ignited the reaction. The rest belongs purely to Dr. McCoy, and only he can eliminate the feelings. From what I have seen, this will not happen in the near future."

"Maybe I can tell him..." Kirk knew this was ridiculous the moment it left his mouth. McCoy's anger was very real, and would not abate by explanation alone.

"Your thoughts are correct," the dragon said. "The seed would fight against such suggestions immediately. It can be stopped, but it will take Leonard regaining his memories and coping with them. It is a journey he must take on his own. As I said, there is little I can do in these regards, but there is one thing I can offer."

The captain was skeptical. If the two greatest damages Amara wrought could not be fixed, he did not see the offer being too promising.

"I am here to offer you a warning," the dragon continued. "Since separation from a corporal body, I have become much more attuned to the universe. As we speak, there are forces at work seeking to use the most ancient powers in the universe for their gain."

"Ancient powers," Kirk repeated, still not impressed. He received vague warnings all the time, and none of them have ever amounted to anything.

"I am speaking of the elemental energy underlying every universe in existence. It is what your daemon consists of, as well as myself. There are those who seek to control this power, as well as the fate of every soul in this universe."

"It would be a little more helpful if you could be more specific," Aesina said. "I have not felt anything like what you describe."

"That is because you are completely attuned to your captain," the dragon said. "I do not know many specifics, but after I leave you I will be joining with other free souls and converging to fight this evil."

"Does this has something to do with the Romulans?" Kirk asked, suddenly remembering the possible breach to the enemy.

"Perhaps. I will know when I join with the others. What I know right now, though, is that you and your friends will be at the forefront of this fight."

Now Kirk was intrigued. "What? Why us? Is there a war coming?"

"I hope it does not come to that, but I wanted to you be on your guard and ready. All those with sentience will look to you, Spock, and Leonard to protect them."

"Hold it," Kirk said with palms up. He was not sure he believed a word this thing said, but this still irked him. "Why us? If this is as vast a fight as you say, then why would the three of us be able to fight it at all? What makes us so important?"

The dragon appeared to give his approximation of a smile. "I think you know this already. From what I have seen of you, the messages I am receiving from beyond are accurate: you are chosen."

Aesina bristled. "It sounds like you're talking about destiny. If you know anything about us, you know we think destiny is a cop out - an excuse for not taking charge and making things happen for yourself. What if this task is something we don't want to be chosen for?"

"Besides," Kirk continued. "McCoy and I are growing apart, and he refuses to even speak to Spock."

"Time has a way of changing things."

Kirk sighed. "Cliches are not going to change this fact. Time could make things better or worse. I'm already scared to death I'm going to lose my two closest friends. I don't really need you saying our relationship is going to be essential in some cosmic struggle."

The dragon's eyes softened, and he hung his head low. Kirk saw for the first time this creature seemed incredibly burdened. Whether it was with guilt or responsibility, he did not know. There was something about him which ignited Kirk's curiosity, and made him want to learn more about this thing - or other forms of souls which could exist. He had never concerned himself with such things before, but their recent ordeal caused the subject to be more necessary.

"I must go now, James," the dragon said. "I wish I could give you something which could make things better, but I cannot."

Kirk nodded, eager for this strange encounter to end. It was gratifying to know McCoy's horrid behavior was not completely his fault, but this knowledge changed nothing. He could not think of anything to say to the Spector before he vanished.

oOOOo

McCoy was in a far more chipper mood once he was able to return to Sickbay and figure out his return schedule. Now that he had been cleared to work again, he at last felt like his life was no longer on hold. In this case, he did not even notice the conflicting feelings of knowing he missed the work, and not remembering being without it. The internal tango he had been dancing for two weeks almost made him want those memories back. Almost.

The day had been long, and he was ready for a shower and a night of cuddling with Leauna. T'Remberale suggested several exercises for strengthening the daemon bond. McCoy did not feel like his bond with Leauna was worse than before, but it always made his heart soar to spend time with her. He promised never to take her for granted again, and he intended to keep that promise.

"The finishing sentences game again?" Leauna asked once they were safely in quarters.

"The one that makes us feel like a chump?"

"Len, all the exercises make us feel like a chump."

McCoy smiled as he walked to the bathroom. He stripped his shirt off, but not before getting stuck, misstepping, and tripping over the rubber mat in front of the shower. Leauna stepped in to stop the fall, but it was in vain. Man and daemon became a tangle of limbs on the floor as McCoy continued to wrest the shirt off while separating himself. After a few minutes, they finally straightened themselves out on the floor space in front of the vanity, laughing heartily.

"Oh my God," McCoy said between belly laughs. He put his arms around Leauna, ignoring the minor pain in his back where he hit the floor. "Maybe I need to ignore the bond and work on my coordination."

Leauna only replied with laughs of her own. McCoy turned his head to face the vanity, preparing to turn in his stomach and get on his feet, but he was stopped when he saw an object wedged under in the space between the vanity and the floor. It looked like a medicine bottle.

"I guess that's where our sleeping pills went," Leauna said, when the observation reached her.

"Yeah, but the bottle's empty," McCoy said when he reached in and retrieved the orange vial from the dark crevice. It was definitely empty when there were at least fifteen pills in there before.

"We...er...you probably used them all," Leauna observed once she got to his feet.

McCoy could not accept that explanation for some reason, although. He sat upright and leaned against the wall, somehow mesmerized but the small plastic object on his hands. McCoy could feel something on the edge of his awareness fighting for entrance into his conscious mind.

"There's...something..." McCoy said, not able to stop his gaze. He knew this stirred a memory - a memory from his severed life. He did not want to know, because something in him suspected what it would be. Then again, if his suspicions were true, how was he still alive? Curiosity eventually overcame his aversion. McCoy reluctantly closed his eyes and squeezed the bottle, allowing the barrier between his ego and his subconscious to give way.

The wave hit him like an oncoming semi truck. He remembered the desire to die, and the pills he ingested. He remembered his last thoughts and the faces he imagined in his last moments - one of them being Spock.

"What...?" Leauna said, confused as she experienced the memories with him. She was stunned, but McCoy more so. A tide had started to surge forward, causing their minds to calibrate like the setting of a broken femur. Memories made their way into the void, and both were powerless to stop it.

The pain.

The despair.

The fear.

The guilt.

No emotions.

No hope.

Sucking his friends dry.

Needing a Vulcan martyr.

The pain of taking his future.

The need for the pain to end.

The anger and need to lash out.

The tears.

The revelations.

The love.

"Oh...my..." McCoy was trembling from the influx of information, and the accompanying emotions. A missing part of him had finally returned. All the pain was known to him, but not his focus.

"We...love Spock?" Leauna was shaking, her shock apparent. "For real...it was real."

McCoy was distraught. His heart was hammering in his chest. He put his hands in his hair as he tried to stop the images from coming. The glorious, wonderful images. Spock had not raped him. Not even close. They had loved each other. McCoy did not know how such a thing was possible without his soul, but it did not matter. He knew what he felt now without any influence. He had seen the depths of the Vulcan's feelings firsthand. He loved Spock. Really and truly.

And T'Ra...beautiful T'Ra. He remembered so vividly the feeling of her feathers against his fingers. The way the warm body touched him, and the energy thrummed underneath his touch. The calming voice which spoke for her parent when the emotions were too overwhelming for Spock to put into words. T'Ra was part of Spock, and he loved her as he loved him.

Now she was gone - never to be touched or to speak again. Because of him.

"Oh no, please no."

The tears started falling as he remembered the horrible things he said to Spock, and the conclusions he drew. How could he think those things? Spock had given him everything, including his one connection to humanity. McCoy had responded by hurling accusations and destroying him. When he remembered the look on Spock's face in the hallway, all was clear. He had deliberately destroyed the man who cared about him more than his own life. He completed the task he set out to do in this same spot when the Vulcan saved his life.

"Oh shit. Shit. Shit."

McCoy and Leauna came to the decision simultaneously. He grabbed his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head in haste. He jumped to his feet and ran out the door to the bathroom and then to his cabin, making a beeline for Spock's quarters.

He lowered his head so no one would see his obviously distressed state. He had no plan for what he would do when he got to the other cabin, nor what he would say. He did not even know what he would do if Spock was not there. It did not matter. He would camp out if he had to. He had to make this right. McCoy felt like he would explode if he did not.

He needed to tell Spock he remembered - that the week they spent together meant something. They had been the most meaningful days of his life. He wanted them to continue.

McCoy was again overwhelmed by the strength of his emotions and leaned face first against the wall trying to collect himself. It was like psychological whiplash - going from hating a man to being unable to live without him in a five minute span. McCoy did not know how these feelings developed, but he knew they were not new. He felt the roots extend deep into past memories, which further made him feel like pond scum.

"I...I should have known," he whispered, fighting tears with all his might.

"Len," his daemon said, pleading for them to continue. She was feeling it, too. She could not stand Spock hating them - or more accurately believing they hated him - a moment longer. McCoy was shocked she had dived head first into his experience like this, considering she had not been present. He only wished he could do the same for her with her own memories of being Amara's slave.

They continued on their journey and finally made it to the door. He entered his medical override code and burst forth. The place looked strangely bare, and for a second McCoy thought he accidentally stepped into the wrong room - which was entirely possible in his state. Then he caught a faint whiff of incense - Vulcan incense. It was an old smell, one which had embedded itself in the room and would only fade with time. This was the only evidence Spock had ever been here.

The red curtains and firepot were gone. The temperature was back to human norms. All the trinkets and emblems which made the space uniquely Spock's were gone. McCoy felt a weight in his stomach as he remembered T'Remberale was set to leave today on path to Vulcan. It did not take much deduction to figure out where his Vulcan had gone.

McCoy rushed to the com unit and asked the computer where Spock was on the ship.

He was not on board.

No, he could not give up. McCoy tried to find out which shuttle had taken him. Once he found out it was Copernicus, he attempted to hail it. No response. The shuttle logs showed Spock was piloting the damn thing himself.

McCoy hit the table with his fist. There had to be a way to get to him. He could take a shuttle himself and chase Copernicus. The Enterprise had to stop by Vulcan at some point - or wherever Spock planned to go. There was no way Starfleet would just let their best First Officer up and quit.

"Len," Leauna said. Her voice was muffled as if something was in her mouth. McCoy looked down to see her holding a folded piece of paper with his first name written on it in flowing script and dark ink.

McCoy was at first confused paper was still used on the ship, but then his heart dropped to his stomach when he realized who it was from. Part of him dreaded what was inside, but another knew this might contain the hope he was looking for, maybe the excursion to Vulcan would not be permanent.

He grabbed the letter and unfolded it, only to be met with too few words in a penmanship which exuded Spock.

_Leonard,_

_I have calculated the chances of you remembering our time together as 32.56 percent. The chances it will make a difference in your inclination toward me are far lower. Despite the odds, I have decided to indulge in one final illogical act and write you some final words._

_I am going back to Vulcan to complete the kolinar ritual. This will at last purge all emotion from me. I have found myself unable to function on a Starship as of late, and I can only blame the flagrant emotionalism which I allowed to take over my life. This has caused not only pain to you, but has the potential to endanger the Enterprise._

_Please know I truly did love you. I meant you no harm. However, this will soon be a moot point. My feelings for you will be gone. I truly wish you peace and contentment going forward with your life. This was my only goal when I sacrificed my daemon. You deserved to live your life to the fullest, as do I. As our circumstances have made clear, the only way either of us will move on is if we do so apart._

McCoy could not read anymore. His tears were dripping on the paper and causing the ink to run. He knew what the note entailed. Spock would not come back. McCoy had helped confirm the lie he had been told his entire life - that his human side was a burden. A curse. Now that T'Ra was gone, Spock was taking the final step and destroying every other trait which made him human.

He crumpled the paper and started sobbing in earnest. In the beginning of their relationship, he had feared he had broken Spock. Now he truly had.

McCoy fell to his knees and grabbed Leauna like a drowning man grabbed a life preserver. She was crying in her own way - no tears, but many whimpers.

"Spock," McCoy moaned, as if in pain.

McCoy was still thankful he had regained a part of himself thought lost. He only wished it had not caused him to lose another.

oOOOo

Less than a week later, Starbase 6 announced they had discovered a way to make an artificial daemon bond by having a next of kin donate a small amount of energy and expanding it, thereby allowing a telepath to create a new connection.

The discovery had happened three weeks to the day after McCoy's own ritual.

"Figures," the doctor had said.

Epilogue

Four years Later

Annalise knew she would never get used to slacks. After having spent the formative years of her life wearing long skirt and dresses, it always seemed something was wrong. That said, her adoptive parents seemed to frown in her wearing anything else, as if the old wardrobe was a symbol of her old "oppressed" life. She did not have the heart to fight them, especially since they continued to let her practice the faith of her late parents. That said, she knew they turned their noses up on New Anabaptism when she was not looking, and hoped she would "come to her senses" one day.

She sat in a small cafe in Atlanta, sipping coffee and waiting for lunch date to come. She should have been used to him always running late, but she could not help the irritation every time he kept her waiting.

In her lap sat Simeon, now settled into his permanent red-gold Pine marten form. She always loved to sit back and feel the subtle vibrations of the bond between them, which at one time she thought was gone forever. When the healers on Starbase 6 finally reinstated the bond, he had immediately settled into one form. Although she had not yet reached puberty, Annalise knew why he would no longer change. She had grown up quite a bit since the Xarth trespasser destroyed her bond to ensure her silence.

"Sorry I'm late," came the familiar gruff voice of Leonard McCoy, clearly out of breath. She looked up to smile at him in his familiar grey outfit with Leauna trotting behind. His beard had grown much longer since she last saw him - when they last met it had not even been a centimeter long. He still had therelaxed air about him which made it hard to believe he had been on a Starship at one point, let alone severed like her.

McCoy contacted her after she had been adopted and he settled back into an earth-bound practice. She found it odd at first, but soon saw him as a man much like her late father. None of the other colonists were close enough to talk to, and despite her and Leonard's age difference, she found a kindred spirit in their shared experiences. He became a mentor and a sponsor, allowing her to complete her schooling and giving her the motivation to apply for Starfleet when she came of age next year. He had admitted he did it because of old debts he felt he had to pay, but this did not stop her affection for him. Their semi-regular meetings showed her his concern, even though he had never said it out loud.

"It's okay," Annalise replied sincerely, adjusting the single flower tucked in her headband. "Did some mother with sick child insist you stay behind?"

"Appendicitis actually," McCoy said, letting out a breath. "I had to stay with a writhing single mother while we waited for an ambulance. You think in this day and age, they would figure out a way to get into the mountains faster."

"You'd think," Annalise laughed. She adjusted her position as Simeon slid off her lap to go sit by Amara.

"So, anyway, how's school?"

Annalise sighed. "Long and boring, as usual. I can't wait for Starfleet."

"Careful, kiddo. Starfleet's a rough place to get into."

"But I'm sure if you give me a recommendation..." Annalise left the statement hanging.

"I'm giving you a recommendation, Anna. That's not a question. I just have learned to not count on anything, that's all."

"Oh trust me, I have, too. But with all my scores, there's no way they won't accept me. I'm sure it would be pretty good publicity, too. I mean, what happened to my colony is pretty well known around the Federation. There's no way the poor traumatized orphan girl could be refused."

"Geeze, you're worse than Joanna with the emotional manipulation," McCoy said playfully. They had learned to be light about their experiences quite soon after they met. Otherwise, it would only cause unwanted tears. Annalise hoped that if her parents were in heaven right now, they approved of it.

"Speaking of Joanna, how is she?"

McCoy shrugged. "She's good. She had her new baby. Another boy."

"That's four now, isn't it?"

"Yes, and let me tell you, they are rambunctious little cusses. I took them to the park one day, and I felt like I was herding cats. All I needed was a horse and lasso."

Annalise laughed. "It looks like you need another set of hands to help you out. A lady friend maybe?"

McCoy's face fell, although no one but her would probably notice it. She had never asked about his love life before. She was getting a bit tired of having to explain to people that Leonard was not a pervert just trying to get into her pants. It would have been easier if he were married or at least otherwise involved. Now, based on the way his emotions took a nose dive, Annalise was sorry she brought it up.

"Not yet," was his only reply. "I had some...bumps in the romance road I'm still trying to get over."

"Divorce will do that to you."

"Yeah," McCoy replied, although his tone of voice implied he was not exclusively talking about Jocelyn. Annalise did not want to push it. She may have been more mature than most fifteen-year-olds, but she knew Leonard would be uncomfortable talking about his love life to someone as young as her.

"Have you talked to Jim Kirk any?"

McCoy's face lifted, but not by much. "Not really. He's still doing his Admiral thing in San Francisco."

"His Admiral thing? That's a little flippant."

McCoy opened his mouth to reply, but a chirp from his cell phone interrupted. He looked on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," he intoned.

"Captain Kirk?" Annalise said brightly. She selfishly had wanted McCoy to introduce her to her hero, although with his current distance from him, she did not want to push it.

"No. Some Starfleet brass. Should I answer it?"

"Do you have a choice?"

McCoy shrugged. "I guess not."

He accepted the call and left the table to take it in private, leaving Annalise alone once again. She still felt guilty about the romance comment, but quickly tried to diffuse it from her mind. Leonard was a forgiving man, or at least she thought he was before he came stomping back to the table with a scowl on his face.

"Those manipulative bastards. I told them I was done!"

Annalise furrowed her brow, confused.

"They're drafting me," McCoy sighed, schooling his anger to talk to her. "They want me back to the Enterprise."

"What for?" She asked, shocked.

"Who knows? They can't tell me until I get there. I would just love to..." He stopped once he realized he was still in the presence of a minor. "Sorry to cut our lunch short, but they want me now."

"No worries," Annalise said, disappointed but understanding. McCoy had told her about the manipulation they pulled on Captain Kirk to get him into an earthbound promotion, and how the action made McCoy so disgusted he left Starfleet. This did not deter her desire to join, but it did give her some warning about what she was in for.

She rose to give him a quick hug, "See you soon, Len."

Their daemons exchanged a quick, friendly touch as he said, "See you if these succubi let me go."

She laughed as he stomped out the door, Leauna close at his heels.

Annalise could not help but wonder why they had so abruptly called him back from civilian life. The only reason for that would have to be some form of emergency where the Enterprise was needed.

As she sipped her coffee and stroked her daemon, Annalise contemplated her friend. He always seemed to be missing something, although she could not put her finger on what. Her largest suspicion was that he left something behind on space, with that large silver ship and the inhabitants he helped heal. She stared out the window at the sky which was starting to turn yellow with the sunset. Annalise hoped that this forced trip into space would somehow allow him to find it again.

THE END


End file.
